


The Shadows behind

by dramirezgarrido



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is Dead, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Not Robin, Dick Grayson is Dead, F/M, M/M, The League of Assassins (DCU), Tim Drake is a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramirezgarrido/pseuds/dramirezgarrido
Summary: (Basically, I try to take the recent events of the comics and try to take the story in what I consider an interesting direction. Originally I was going to make Damian a hero again. Now, I think he will become an anti-hero.)After Damian murdered KGBeast and was fired from the Robin position, he vanished. Soon after, Dick got killed in the Joker Wars. The bat-family falls apart without him and Alfred.9 months after the murder, a civil war looms over The League of Assassins. His friends understanding the mess Damian has gotten himself into, will try to save him despite his stuborness.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne & Jonathan Samuel Kent & Maya Ducard & Colin Wilkes & Suren Darga, Damian Wayne & Original Character(s), Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake (Minor), Tim Drake & Duke Thomas & Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 79





	1. Blinking Presence

**Author's Note:**

> Relevant Events to the Story:  
> Gotham Nights (Sasz storyline)  
> Batman Incorporated (Volume 2)  
> Robin: Son of Batman  
> Super Sons and Adventures of the Super Sons  
> City of Bane  
> Teen Titans Rebirth Divergence - Damian kills KGBeast  
> 'Baby Hitler' Legion of Superheroes fiasco  
> Joker Wars Divergence - Richard Grayson is dead

**Richard Grayson funeral – 3 weeks after the murder**

There was a big amount of heroes assisting to the funeral as expected. It was raining heavily, like any good funeral. Bruce, Tim, Duke and Jon hoped that Damian would show up somehow. But he didn’t. That night, while Batman was taking his anger out on a Penguin’s operation, the Joker was found death, his rests incinerated. In the Asylum cell, a crowbar was found. When the bat-family united over the issue, they first suspected Jason.

“I’m telling you it wasn’t me! I was dealing with some goons at the time of the death!” shouted Jason at Bruce’s accusations. The whole room was filled in a heated argument.

“It’s sad to think that without Alfred and Dick, this group can’t even be called a family,” said a familiar voice with a hint of gloom coming from the ceiling. Damian dropped from it. He had a League of Assassins uniform. “Stop looking at Jason all of you. I was the one who killed the Joker.” Everyone was shocked, not only did Damian show up, but he just admitted killing the Joker. Jason smirked; he appreciated the gesture of the crowbar, and he was glad someone killed the Joker.

Bruce started to walk furiously toward him “DAMIAN!” Damian tensed, he knew that Bruce would try (and succeed) beating him up. He considered between using the Leviathan transport technology and flee, or stand his ground. Ultimately, he decided for an alternative.

“Are you going to assault me over Dick’s killer the same way you assaulted Todd over his parents’ killer?” Damian asked, glaring daggers at Bruce. His body was tensed, preparing for the failure his question might yield. Surprisingly, Bruce didn’t attack when he was in front of Damian, he simply stayed there, glaring furiously at him.

“You rejoined the League!” exclaimed Tim from the distance.

“That’s not your business!” angrily replied Damian, breaking the eye contact with Bruce to look at Tim.

“It is our business Damian, we are family!” pointed out Steph.

“That’s not true!”

“It is!” finally said Duke. He realized that Damian had felt alone all the months leading to the murder KGBeast, and that it was probably the reason he had resorted to it.

“NO!” Damian yelled, his voice in the highest tone he could. “I WAS DISOWNED!”

“You aren’t my son or get to wear the bat symbol as long as you are an assassin!” replied Bruce. Everyone in the room was shocked. They couldn’t believe what they just heard.

Damian was hurt. He had been hurt by Bruce after KGBeast incident, when Bruce told him “You aren’t worthy of this symbol and your last name!” It wasn’t exactly getting disowned, but it meant that Damian wasn’t worthy of calling himself Son of Batman or Damian Wayne. He wasn’t Bruce’s son. He didn’t know why but hearing his father (or ex-father) repeating that information still hurt him. He clenched his fists, turning away from Bruce. His emotions were getting the best from him. He needed to hurt before he could get hurt.

“Whatever! I didn’t come here to be part of this excuse of a family! You are all big hypocrites and I hate you!” said Damian walking away furiously. “I came here to inform you that if you don’t control your Rogues, I’ll control them for you. Additionally, stay out of my way.”

Damian had already activated Leviathan transport tech. When everyone realized what was going on, it was too late, Damian was already gone.

**Jon’s 18th – 3 months after the murder**

Something arrived in front of his parents’ apartment while celebrating. They didn’t realize it was there until they opened the door to receive some invitees. He looked inside the box with x-ray, just to check it wasn’t any trap. When he was sure he could open it, he beamed at a beautiful painting of his old house, the farm, him smiling with his family on it. It was nostalgic. The colors were rare and beautiful, and the artwork was incredibly polished and used a variety of techniques Jon had no idea of. But the only question he had floating on his mind was: who?

No tag attached, there were no fingerprints, nothing that indicated who it was. But the fact that there was no indication was enough indication: there was only one person close enough to Jon that would have the ability and the motives to hide his identity. “I miss him” lamented Jon. His parents already knew what that meant; they had figured it out also. His parents gave him a hug, Conner soon joined.

“Dad, do you think Damian is a bad person?” he asked his Dad, sorrow in his eyes.

“No,” answered Clark closing his eyes. “He honestly wants to save people but goes about it the wrong way. He is blinded by his rage.” Jon felt a bit reassured.

“Mom?”

“Honey, you know I didn’t like him at first. He has serious issues,” Jon chucked at this. “But I know he tries his best despite his issues. That’s something I respect.”

**Colin’s 15th – 4 months after the murder**

The nuns had made a cake, although small and not a particularly delicious flavor. It didn’t matter though, it made him feel special. Suren was teasing him and ruffling his hair. Maya showed up. The kids in the orphanage were singing ‘Happy Birthday’. He had hoped that Damian would show up, but he knew that it was unlikely; Damian was… It didn’t matter though, after eating the cake he would go out with the friends that did come and have fun at the arcade. He just had to go back to his room for his coat.

When he opened the door, he found something unexpected: a PS4 with Mortal Kombat and a new coat; in fact, there were a bunch of new coats in his closet. He was so thankful for the gift that when he came back, he tackled his friends, pulling them into a big hug. They were surprised for the gesture.

“Thank you so much!” giggled the red head.

“Ummmm… for what?” asked Suren confused. Maya was studying the brand-new coat Colin had.

“Your gift! It was very thoughtful of you to buy me that PS4; I’ve always wanted to have my own to play Mortal Kombat!” Everyone looked at each other faces; frowning, shaking their faces puzzled.

“That wasn’t our gift Colin” said Suren, lifting himself, putting a hand in Colin’s shoulder.

“Who?” It wouldn’t be the nuns; they wouldn’t promote a violent game or any videogame for that matter. It wasn’t his friends, at least not those who came. Jon wouldn’t come to not stay. Damian though… “Thank you Damian” he whispered with a smile. Even though not everyone heard what he said, everyone knew what he just said.

They went to the gate of the orphanage, saying their goodbyes to the kid of the orphanage. They were all smiling, laughing… generally having fun. Maya senses tickled; she looked up and saw a silhouette of a small man. She could only distinguish the emerald eyes of him. The silhouette quickly turned and disappeared.

**Suren 15th – 6 months after the murder**

Maya, Colin, and Suren had gone to a natural reservoir, to camp and party for the birthday. It was a good change of pace. As much as Suren had gotten habituated to Gotham smell of contamination, he always needed a break to the nature. He would go trekking once or twice a month. Colin always wanted to go with him, but occasionally he needed to go alone, which Colin took very badly the first time. He eventually understood that it wasn’t that Suren didn’t want to be with him, but he needed some time alone. But his birthday wasn’t that kind of day, it was a day to remember he had people on his side, people that actually cared about him (not like his family). Just like Damian, he too had a story with birthdays.

They had just returned from swimming at the lake. They were going to make a bonfire and deliver their gifts. Suren went to the tent to retrieve his jacket. He found a box that wasn’t there when he left. He opened and found a bunch of ingredients for his potions that he had been looking for months. It was a very thoughtful gift and given the way it was delivered; it was only one person. Suren came back to the Bonfire.

“Ready for your birthday gifts?” asked Colin, wiggling his eyebrows in a funny way.

“Damian already got ahead from you,” teased Suren. Absolutely no one was surprised at this point. “Your gifts better live up to his.” Colin smiled nervously. Maya sighed.

**Maya’s 16th – 7 months after the murder**

The treehouse of solitude was full of Maya’s friends: Colin, Suren, Kathy, Robzarro, Boyzarro… Only Jonathan was missing… and Damian, but she had a plan for him. It was a fun day, and everything went as well as expected. Except Damian’s gift didn’t arrive. And Damian wasn’t detected by Kathy in the vicinity of the place. She went back to her house, confused to why didn’t Damian show up, when she saw the silhouette of Damian on her roof.

“No way!” she whispered excited, running towards him. When she reached him, she was afraid, unsure of what Damian would say or how he would react. Damian was feeling the same. She could only see his eyes, the rest of his face covered in a League of Assassins costume. Damian unveiled his mask and hood, showing his face. He hadn’t changed a thing after the last time they’ve properly seen each other. He hadn’t grown either. It was as if he was stuck looking like an eleven-year-old all his life. She hugged him for the first time in 7 months. He hesitated, but he returned the embrace.

“I missed you,” she spoke softly and gently, ruffling Damian’s hair.

“I missed you too,” he said back, in such a low volume, as if anyone knowing would mean death. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t allow himself to show weakness. He cleared his throat, pushing her away. “I haven’t had time to find you a present,” he said apologetically. “I hope a ride on Goliath can make amends for it though.” Goliath was sleeping behind the house.

Maya’s eyes lighted up as she dropped from the roof to greet Goliath. When Maya was close enough, Goliath recognized Maya’s scent; he opened his eyes, licking Maya energetically. She simply hugged him. “Hello Goliath, I missed you too.” Damian had already climbed the back of Goliath, offering his hand to lift Maya.

“Just two conditions: you don’t try to force me to leave the League, and you don’t try to make me give up details about my mission,” said Damian before Maya could reach his hand. She was fine with the conditions, but she would at least try to convince Damian to come back. Maya took Damian’s hand, positioning herself behind him. “Goliath, let’s go!”  
They stayed in silence, looking around at what the moon managed to light up for them. Maya not only yearned Damian, she also longed for the missions they had the year of redemption. They were fun and exciting. She got to know Damian at his best; when he wasn’t angry, confused and lost… no, he has always been angry, confused and lost. What changed between then and now? “Why?” Damian turned to see her, raising an eyebrow. She had many questions for Damian that started with why, but the one which got on top of her head was “Why are you delivering presents on our birthdays but never showing up?”

Damian frowned, turning again, giving his back to Maya. He opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again, then closed it again. “I… I don’t know”

“That’s bullshit,” accused Maya. “I want you to answer truthfully.”

Damian was annoyed. “-tt- It’s the truth, but perhaps I should elaborate.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I have a plethora of hypothesis of why I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe it’s because I’m weak and I can’t stay for an extended period of time in the League of Assassins without losing my nerve about the hell hole that is that place. Maybe it’s because I am grateful to you and I want to substantiate it. Maybe it’s because I don’t want you to have a bad perception of me, or at least, an awfully bad perception. I really don’t know.”

Maya had a lot to unpack about the last statement. She would have to tackle each point in order. “First, if you are losing your nerve in the League of Assassins, why are you still there?”

“I won’t abandon the mission. Furthermore, the alternative is my family, and from what I’ve seen, I would lose my nerve either way.”

Maya couldn’t pierce the first part of the reply due to the agreement they had, but she could inquire more about the second one. “What’s going on with your family?”

Damian sighed. “It’s falling apart. Without Richard and Alfred, the family, if you can call it as such, can’t operate in a civil manner. Everyone is going their own way, antagonizing each other at each turn. They don’t get to spend time with each other like normal families do. They don’t even have family dinners anymore.”

Maya was surprised at how toxic the description Damian gave about his family was. Damian didn’t tell her what happened to Alfred after the City of Bane, nor he told her what the happened to Dick. When he killed KGBeast, it came as a shock to his friends as they didn’t know what KGBeast had done to Nightwing. But if both members of the family were gone, he didn’t have anyone on it to rely on. On top of that, he had closed off with his friends. It was something that could be fixed though.

“Not that I care. Batman disowned me after all.”

“What?!”

Damian stayed in silence for a moment, contemplating if he really was going to say what he was going to say. He took a deep breath. “He told me I wasn’t worthy of being Robin or a Wayne after I killed KGBeast. When I killed the Joker, he told me that I wasn’t his son as long as I was an assassin.” Damian sighed. Admitting what happened was emotionally draining.

Something clicked in Maya’s head. “Is this why you joined the league?”

“I assure, it was not,” briefly replied Damian.

Maya wanted him to expand on it, but she made the stupid agreement to not get any details about his ‘mission’. Instead she moved onto the next point she wanted to discuss. “You said you are grateful with us, why?”

Damian didn’t like talking about the good will he had to others. It was much easier for him to talk about what he hated. He felt that he had the obligation to elaborate on what he said though. “I’ve partnered with many people, I’ve leaded two iterations of the ‘Teen Titans’. But when I look back on those partners, they were mere work relationships, there was no good will or significant emotional investment on those. I’m okay with that though. On retrospect, my behavior promoted that kind of development in my relationships.”

“However, I do appreciate the fact that I managed to develop an emotional link with you four. I’m well aware of the difficulties that come with socializing and bonding with me. I was raised the majority of my life by the League of Assassins. I don’t do fluff and mushiness well. But you called me your friend and looked out for me despite all of that. I’m… thankful.”

Maya couldn’t help herself, she had to hug Damian. Damian was already embarrassed by the little monologue he just gave, and Maya was embarrassing him even more. “Stop that!” He pushed her away immediately this time. Maya didn’t take it personally; she knew how Damian was.

Maya still had one last thing to discuss. It wasn’t about what Damian said, but something she had been wondering. “Why are you killing again?”

“-tt- I knew this would come,” mumbled Damian. “There are some people that have to die. It doesn’t have to be every criminal, every killer, or every rapist. It doesn’t even have to be the heads of criminal empires or the ones that have killed the most. The ones that have to be killed are the ones that have no conflict with their actions. Joker kills and tortures people with a grin on his face! He pleasures in the pain he provokes. How many times have we attempted to rehabilitate him to no avail? Do you think there was something redeemable about that man?”

Maya couldn’t deny that she agreed that the Joker had to die. In fact, everyone was relieved when that happened. The Joker wouldn’t have to be dealt with again (unless a way to revive him without his rests was found). The heroes and the police condemned the event, but the truth is that a big weight had been lifted from their shoulders. “Still, that doesn’t justify the other kills.”

“Which ones? Bane, after he took over the City and murdered all those civilians by stablishing a police state? KGBeast, who was hired by the aforementioned to kill my brother? Who killed his own mother, brother, and father in cold blood? Batman attempted to kill KGBeast, but when I succeeded, he… AGH!” he snapped, pain and anger clear in his voice. He pulled his hair in frustration. He needed to get it out of his chest. “He is such a hypocrite! He beat up Jason for attempting to kill the Penguin! He almost did the same when I killed the Joker! But he did the same when he paralyzed KGBeast! I… UGH!” He pulled again his hair. He didn’t want to say it, but he was boiling in anger. If he didn’t say it, his head would explode into tiny pieces. “I hate him!”

Maya put a hand on his shoulder. He quickly pushed it away. “I don’t need your pity!” he yelled.

Maya stayed calm despite what Damian had just done. “It isn’t pity Damian, it’s empathy. I understand how you feel about your dad.”

“No, you don’t!” he yelled again. Maya was losing her patience.

“Maybe I don’t have Batman as my father. But I know what it feels like to be held to an unfair standard.”

“Shut up.”

“Damian-”

“Shut up!”

“NO! YOU shut up Damian!” she finally yelled back. “I’ve been worried sick about you in months. I try to understand you, not to accuse you. I try to help you and you yell at me for it! I shouldn’t even be trying to help you; you are a murderer Damian! When you told me that I was a hypocrite only if I allowed it, that I didn’t have to play the cards that my family gave me, did you mean it?!”

“Maya I-”

“You went back to the League of Assassins! You are not just murdering villains; you are working with the family you rejected!”

Damian was speechless. Everything Maya just said was true, and he wanted to explain himself, but he couldn’t give up the details of his mission. It would compromise it. “I-”

“Save it, I don’t want any of your excuses,” interrupted Maya. Damian looked down, he fucked up, like always.

“I apologize, this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Goliath, let’s return to Maya’s house.”

…

Maya was climbing off Goliaths back. She didn’t regret a word she said, she meant all of them. But she knew that Damian was socially inept and tended to overthink a lot. She had to clarify. “Damian, whatever happened between us today, you are still my brother. Nothing about what has happened this year changes the fact that we are your friends… I’m still pissed at you though.” Damian looked at her confused, but the relief in his face was obvious. His face seemed a bit lighten up. Also, a bit incredulous.

“Goodbye Maya,” he said, then whispered “Let’s go Goliath.”

**8 months after the murder**

Drake had been investigating the murder of a super-hero that went by the name of The Violinist. She was a meta which could produce a variety of sounds with her body that produced a variety of effects; her violin was only a perk to amplify those sounds. She dressed in one of those masks that are used in rich people disguise parties, and a dress that was very sexy but allowed her to do acrobatics.

After the murder, a hero that went by the name of Shambles, who could cut walls into pieces by touching them, moved into Toronto as there were other heroes in Ottawa but apparently no more in Toronto. Weeks after the hero moved to Toronto, he found a sidekick that called herself The Guitarist; she was apparently an admirer of The Violinist. Her guitar could generate the frequencies itself apparently, emulating the power of The Violinist. The most notable aspect of hers was the scar on her face. She was somewhat taller than The Violinist, had a bigger breast size, different hair color, a different voice tone, used more casual clothes (a domino mask, a leather jacket, a crop top, jeans, some chains, boots) and had a different pattern of movement.

But the girl was too good to be ‘new’. Furthermore, the fighting style might have somewhat changed, but the strategy stayed the same. The difference in height could be explained by the boot’s heels. The difference in breast size could be explained with filler. She also moved as if she could see in the darkness, like echolocation. The scar was most definitely the most interesting feature (make a distinct feature that drives the attention away from other features). The scar was also made in a way that created an illusion of a different face complexion. The girl’s secret identity had moved very recently to Toronto, but she was registered in the government databases.

The change of identity was done by an expert impersonator. The expert impersonator must have been able to teach ventriloquism to the girl. The scar was a commonly used technique by the bats. But he needed hard evidence to prove what he was suspecting.

The woman had entered her apartment, which was in complete darkness. Drake knew that hiding in the darkness would lead to a fight as she could see through it. That’s why he had waited seated in the living room, lightly illuminated by the moon, as if he wanted to be found. She tensed when she realized that there was someone in her apartment, taking a fighting stance.

“I’m not here to fight,” said the duck, turning on the lights of the apartment, standing up. “I’m Drake, member of Young Justice. I’ve been doing an investigation on the League of Assassins.”

She knew who he was. After all, Young Justice was very well known, and the bats were also well known. She relaxed. “I guess you are here to ask me what I know.”

“More like confirming.”

“What are you suspecting then?”

“That a grumpy small assassin with green eyes faked your death Violinist.”

She was surprised and quickly took a defensive stance. “How do you know that?” She asked aggressively.

“Well, it was a gut feeling at first that the Guitarist and the Violinist were one and the same. As I found more evidence, it was clear that the change of identity was done by someone with an extremely specific set of skills. The probable involvement of the League of Assassins narrowed the possibilities; but there was only someone I knew about who had a motive. Don’t worry, I mean no harm, I’m just worried about him.”

She knew she couldn’t simply trust the man in front of herself, but there was something genuine in those last words. She had to confirm his good intentions. “What’s your relationship with him?”

“I am his brother, although he might not see me as such in the moment,” he said in a plain voice. But she was incredibly good with voices: she heard the small hint of hesitation, of guilt and pain in it. 

“I believe you.” She tended to give trust on people based on the truth in their voices. Drake was surprised. He though it would take more than this. Not that it wasn’t a welcomed development.

“Why did he fake your death?”

“He was ordered to kill me, but he said he wouldn’t kill heroes or innocents. He gave me an offer: I could change my identity, my life, to preserve it. If I rejected his offer, he wouldn’t attempt to kill me, but that would mean he would be replaced by another assassin who would do the job for him, and he would ‘get disposed.’ I chose to accept the offer.”

“Do you know if he has done the same with other people?”

“Yes. Due to his ‘time restrictions’ he wasn’t really a big part of the process. He faked the death and designed the new appearance / identity. But there was a whole web of people teaching me the necessary abilities to do the change of identity effectively. I even got a teammate out of this.” Drake was interested in that web of people the woman was talking about. He was proud of Damian for being able to set up such a thing.

“Does he have a name for that web?”

“Yes. He calls it the League of Shadows.”


	2. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t register what was happening in the transport room. He just looked at the knife with Jon’s blood in shock. He had broken the promise he made one year ago.

**One month before the murder**  
“Hello Dami,” greeted the Super with a big grin on his face. Damian was in his Robin costume and didn’t recognize the teen in front of him. “It’s me, Jon. I’ll wait.”

It took a solid 5 seconds before Damian’s eyes widened, then he frowned. “No, you are not.” It couldn’t be. Jon wasn’t a 17-year-old with a scar on his face and a faint of gloom behind his smile; he is Damian’s naïve 11-year-old partner.

Jon was unimpressed, he had expected this kind of reaction from his partner, still, it angered him. He clenched his fists. After everything he had been through, he still had to deal with the mistrust of his best friend. He took a deep breath. “Yes I am. I’ve been gone 6 years, imprisoned by the Crime Syndicate in a volcano. I just-”

“Stop lying pretender!” screamed Damian. Deep down he knew the Super in front of him was the real Jonathan because he had been informed that Jon had come from his little space trip. Something bad had happened in that trip if it had ended so early (after all it was expected that Jon would remain in space for months or even years. When he first knew, his heart sulked at the thought of not seeing Jon for a prolonged amount of time.)

Jon was so pissed right now. Damian was being insufferable as always. He had a lot of inner rage at the moment, and he knew Damian could take it. So, he took it out on him. He took Damian by the arms and smashed him against the container, pinning him by his wrists. Damian let an ‘oof’ come out of his throat which shouldn’t have satisfied Jon. “I’M NOT LYING DAMIAN! THIS IS REAL! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME IS REAL! WITH ALL OF THE WEIRD SHIT THAT YOU’VE SEEN, DO YOU THINK IT IS IMPOSSIBLE?”

Damian couldn’t accept it, he simply couldn’t. First Richard, then Alfred, now Jon. He couldn’t. “It is! This shouldn’t – couldn’t have happened to Jon! Hand me down you pretender!”

Jon tightened his grip around Damian’s wrists, bruising them, making them bluish. Even though Damian tried not to make any sounds, he gave a small groan. Again, Jon shouldn’t have found it satisfying. “Look at me Damian! LOOK. AT. ME.” Damian who had been previously avoiding looking Jonathan in the eye, met those red eyes of him. Damian just glared defiantly. “There’s no 11-year-old Jon anymore. He doesn’t exist. I AM YOUR BEST FRIEND.”

Damian whimpered at those last words. This couldn’t be real. He had to prove this wasn’t real. “Fortress of Solitude, after Savior, what did you promise?”

It took a moment for Jon to process the question. He released Damian from his grip. His eyes were again sky blue, not red. “That I would protect you. That I wouldn’t push you away.” Jon looked down, ashamed of his recent behavior. He shouldn’t have taken pleasure in harming somebody, especially if that somebody was Damian. He started crying; he had been holding back tears since he had returned to Earth. He started to float away, fleeing from what he had just done. But a firm grip came to his hand, preventing him from getting away. It was Damian.

Damian pulled his friend back to the ground. He inspected his face, tears rolling down his cheeks. Still, gripping his hand so that his friend wouldn’t go away, he slowly started approaching his friend’s face with his other hand. When he finally touched the scar, he flinched at the roughness of the tissue, immediately retracting his hand. He then looked again at Jon’s eyes, finding a void in them. He knew darkness when he saw it. He held back his tears, even after everything he had been through.

Jon was surprised at his friend’s reaction. He didn’t expect his face to be touched in that way from his tough friend. He didn’t expect the glimpse of regret in his eyes, but it was only logical wasn’t it? After all, the kid in front of him had sworn to protect him, yet he failed. It was a first for Jon and Damian, the first time they had failed each other. To be fair, Damian failed to protect him from his own choice. 

“I think we need this,” and without further preamble he pulled Damian into an embrace. To his surprise, Damian didn’t struggle. After tensing at the embrace, Damian relaxed, hugging Jon back. And Jon could’ve sworn he heard something like “Not anymore.” He didn’t understand the full meaning of these words until a month later. A month later he understood that he had failed Damian again by going to the future, leaving the kid alone. After that revelation, he promised himself that he wouldn’t fail Damian again.

**Three weeks before the civil war**

**3 weeks before the Civil War**  
“Thank you all for coming to this meeting,” said Drake. They were in a warehouse, with a cycle in the center of it, computers in one of the corners, a big cork with a bunch of images and documents linked by threads in a wall, a table with some snacks in another corner. It was Abuse’s base of operation; a space that was friendly and safe but not necessarily controlled by the Bats. Everyone had gathered in a circle besides the cycle.

“Don’t start without me!” shouted a young man hovering above them. He came in from one of the above windows. Superboy descended, everyone expanding the circle to make a place for him.

“I thought you wouldn’t show up” commented Maya, mad at Jon for not coming to her birthday party.

“There was a crisis!” excused Jon.

“Off course, it isn’t because you are too old and cool to hang out with me and Kathy!” replied Maya annoyed. She was hurt. Since Jon went to the future, he barely got to spend time with them.

“Umm, it’s nice to meet you” said Colin, extending his hand to the super, trying to defuse the tension.

Superboy was annoyed, but he didn’t want to be rude. Besides, the redhead in front of him didn’t have anything to do with his conflict with Maya. “Superboy,” he said shaking Colin’s hand.

“Abuse, my friend here is Dagger,” Colin said, pointing to Suren. Superboy extended his hand to Dagger, which Dagger met politely.

“Now that everyone is here, we should start with the meeting,” continued Drake. Everyone nodded, going back to their places. “As you may know, Damian has killed a number of criminals. KGBeast, Bane and Joker; we know for a fact that they were murdered by him. But there are more: criminals that have managed to get out of Arkham Asylum and have caused trouble again, were suspiciously killed. Victor Szass and Professor Pyg were most likely killed by him.”

“How do you know that?” asked Abuse. Everyone knew it was Damian, but still, Drake could have a deeper reason to claim so.

“Well, he threatened the bat-family that if we didn’t control the Rogues Gallery, he would control them for us. I guess he meant that. Also, the deaths are by a stab in the chest,” replied Drake. He paused for a moment waiting any questions that might come. When they didn’t, he continued. “But his alleged kills haven’t been only criminals.” Drake raised his hand with a holographic monitor which showed a list of 50 people killed. “Some were criminals and corrupt politicians. Others were super-heroes, scientists, political activists, and reporters.”

Jon was shocked, he wouldn’t accept what he’d been just told. Damian wouldn’t… he couldn’t kill innocent people or heroes. “This can’t be true,” he dramatically said in denial. Everyone agreed with Jon, Damian wouldn’t do such a thing.

“You are right Superboy,” revealed Drake. Everyone stared at him confused.

“What do you mean?” inquired Suren.

Drake pressed a button in the holographic monitor. Most names were lighted in green, the rest in red. “Those that are in red are, in fact, dead. The ones in green though, are still alive. Their deaths have been faked.” Everyone was relieved, understanding what it meant; Damian hadn’t killed any civilian or super-hero yet. Maya and Suren were irritated at Tim; he could have been clear from the start.

“So, you are implying that Damian is working as a Double Agent in the League of Assassins?” guessed Colin.

“That would be true, but it isn’t entirely accurate,” explained Drake. “He apparently is planning a coup on the League of Assassins. He has called the faction loyal to him the League of Shadows, which is a web of assassins that champion for a more moderate League of Assassins and three dozen of heroes whose deaths have been faked. I don’t know exactly the proportion of assassins loyal to Damian, but I estimate something between 5 to 20 percent.”

“Wait, there aren’t more than 10 heroes in that list. Where do all of those heroes come from?” queried Suren.

“He isn’t the only one faking death apparently. His assassins are faking some of their kills too.”

“He’s going to start a civil war,” concluded Jon after giving it some thought.

“A war that’ll be fought across the Globe. My best-case scenario has 100 bystanders’ deaths. My estimated scenario is 6000 civilian deaths. My worst-case scenario has tens of thousands of deaths.”

“What differs between scenarios?” asked Colin.

“In the worst-case scenario, Damian manages to get the support of 40 – 60% of the League but isn’t able to kill Ra’s from the start. With a similar level of force from the start, their war gets drawn until the other side gets obliterated or both sides are unable to continue fighting.”

“In the best-case scenario, Damian manages to get 85% of support of the League and kill Ra’s from the start. He gets to fight only the remnants of the League of Assassins.”  
“In the estimated case scenario, Damian starts with 20-25% of the League’s support. In this war, he doesn’t attempt to take over the League of Assassins but tries to weaken it the most he can. Ra’s wouldn’t get killed, but the League of Assassins would lose from 30% to 60% of its force.”

“Why isn’t the best-case scenario the estimated one? I mean, why wouldn’t Damian wait until he had 85% of the League’s support?” puzzled Superboy.  
“It isn’t about when he decides to make the coup, it’s about when Ra’s discover what he is doing,” pointed out Maya.

“And the bigger his League of Shadows is, the more difficult it is to conceal” reasoned Colin.

Superboy looked at Drake for confirmation. Drake nodded. “At this point we can’t prevent the civil war, but we can minimize the damage. I have a plan to do so.”

…

_  
Damian was riding Goliath with Maya. They didn’t have any particular place where they were going; they were just catching up after 5 months of not seeing each other. Maya had grown, she was taller and more mature looking. But Damian still looked like an eleven-year-old, even though in 5 months he was going to become fifteen._

_Maya was about to ask Damian something, but Jonathan appeared out of nowhere. He was flying besides them, looking incredulous at Damian. “Damian?” asked the twelve-year-old. Damian’s heart shrunk. He wasn’t ready to see him; he needed a bunch of hours of preparation just to be able to face Maya. But Jon was in front of him, and a torrent of feelings came flooding to Damian._

_He swallowed. “Jon,” he said, trying to sound as unfazed as he could, as if it didn’t hurt to be reminded of what he had left behind with the decision he took.  
Jon’s face lighted up. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was there, he had to make sure it was real. He threw himself to hug Damian, kneeling in front of him, feeling their hearts beating against each other. Damian had already been embarrassed once by Maya hugging him, he couldn’t allow himself to be embarrassed the same day… but he couldn’t push Jon away. He embraced Jon back, leaning into the hug. “I missed you Dami!”_

_“I missed you too Jon” Damian whispered back. They stood like that for a while, as if Maya weren’t there and it wasn’t her birthday. At the moment, they were the only people that existed in the world. When Damian had the emotional force to do so, he pulled away from the hug._

_“Dami, what they say about you, that you are killing people, it isn’t true. Right?” Jon asked. There was hope… or mild despair in his face._

_Damian looked away. “I did Jon and I don’t regret it. I did what I had to,” said Damian._

_“You…” Jon was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he heard. He had denied it up until this moment. This wasn’t true, this wasn’t his best friend. He would never murder. “YOU MURDERER!” he yelled, throwing himself over Damian. “I looked up to you! But you… you… you betrayed us!” The impact of the push was enough to empty Damian’s lungs. Jon’s eyes were red, he wasn’t thinking straight. An adrenaline rush came through Damian’s body; he had to fight to survive. He quickly pulled a magical dagger from his utility belt, stabbing Jon’s thigh. Jon voiced a loud cry in pain. Damian quickly pushed Jon’s face upwards to redirect his laser vision, which shoot through a nearby cloud._

_He threw Jon off himself. He knew that Superman would arrive in seconds, he had to escape. He activated Leviathan’s transport technology. Before getting transported, he saw Maya’s horrified face and Jon crying. He didn’t register what was happening in the transport room. He just looked at the knife with Jon’s blood in shock. He had broken the promise he made one year ago.  
_

Damian woke sweating and panting. He looked around: the cold stone walls wrapped with arabic designs, the fine silk of the sheets covering him, the darkness of the room lighted by a handful of candles; it was most definitely his room. He changed rapidly and headed out of the room. He walked fast through the compound, possessed by anguish, the kind of anguish you feel when you are drowning.

He found the room he was looking for; he opened the door, finding Goliath behind it to his relief. He closed the door behind him, so nobody in the League could observe his weakness. He ran towards the dragon, hugging it while the beast slept. His heart rate started to normalize. He remembered, Jonathan wasn’t a 12 year old kid, he had gone to space and now was an 18 year old; Maya and him did meet on her birthday, but it didn’t go that badly; Goliath was still with him, he hadn’t abandoned him to Superman’s mercy. It was just a nightmare… but it felt like it was so real. It wasn’t his typical nightmare, it was something more, like a vision; but it most definitely wasn’t his past or his future.  
Alternate history maybe. Jon’s aging, and constant traveling between past and future must have been altering the natural course of time. But if that were the case, why could he get glimpses of his alternate story? Could other people do the same? His hypothesis was shaky at best, but given how weird the universe got sometimes, he thought it was a likely possibility. Nevertheless, thinking about it wouldn’t help him achieving his goal.

**Two weeks before the Civil War**

An alert had been sent through Damian’s comm. He pulled his tablet to read the full report. A Firefly attack on Bludhaven, 50 people had already been incinerated in the disaster. The pretenders of Nightwing had been trying to defeat the super-villain to no avail. He had to go immediately. He went to the Transport room and set the course to the nearest location to Bludhaven, which was 10 minutes away on car. He drove on a convertible to the city.

As soon as he arrived at the city, he picked up the light scent of burned meat. He was already vegetarian, so it was disgusting in itself, but the meaning of it made it even more disgusting; he wanted to vomit. He took a turn, getting near to the epicenter of the disaster, burning cars, scorched corpses, broken windows, and ashes covering the pavement and walls.

He could see Firefly on the distance, incinerating the street to Damian’s left with his flamethrower. He accelerated, understanding that every second could mean the difference between the life and death of a civilian. Firefly disappeared, flying to the street he was pointing his flamethrower at. When Damian got to the intersection, he had last seen pyromaniac at, he skidded to reach the super villain faster. He immediately saw Firefly flying, turning to his direction due to the loud noise the tires in his vehicle were making.  
Firefly flew in his direction, pointing his flamethrower down. Damian put a brick he had for these kinds of situations on the accelerator. He then climbed to stand in the front part of the vehicle, holding the windshield to steady himself. When Firefly was 20 meters from him, he jumped, grappling his way to the rooftop of a nearby building. He heard an explosion, probably his vehicle, before Firefly came hovering above him, ready to burn the assassin to death. He unwielded his guns. He preferred to use a katana as his weapon, but in a fight where range was critical, guns were the superior option. However, he couldn’t simply kill the villain by shooting him in the face as he had a bulletproof (apart from fireproof) suit, and a mask made of bulletproof glass.

The villain triggered his flamethrower, Damian quickly dashed backward, getting grazed on his belly by the flames. 5 meters of reach approximately had that flamethrower. He took cover behind a wall. There were three directions where Pyromaniac could come from: left, right and up. He was prepared to react quicker than the other could press the trigger. It was up. Damian dashed to his left, his feet receiving the might of the flamethrower. He couldn’t stop to think about the pain though. He pointed both guns at the maniac, aiming at the tubes of the flamethrower. He managed to pierce through one, reducing the range of the flamethrower to 3 meters. Every meter he managed to take from the villain increased his chances of winning that fight.

Then he noticed a small girl, in a roof 50 meters away from them. Firefly noticed too, flying straight to her position. He took his grappling gun, landing the shot on the pyromaniac, holding him with all of his forces. He managed to stop the firefly a mere 10 meters away from the girl, by using the ledge on his roof as a toehold. The villain triggered his flamethrower, paralyzing the girl in horror. He freed his right hand, wielding one of his guns, pointing at the maniac. If he aimed at the right position, he could destabilize his flight, making him crash to the ground with full force, possibly killing him.

It is a maniac, a murderer who takes pleasure in burning to death his victims. He deserves to die. There’s no way he can change for the better; there’s no treatment that can possibly fix him. It’s him or the- Damian lost the hold he had on the ledge; he came flying towards the pyromaniac, watching helplessly as the little innocent human got burned until she was unrecognizable. He yelled in pain, in anger, not only at the killer, but at himself, who was also responsible for the tragedy. Firefly, turned to face the assassin, who managed to partially dodge the flamethrower, his shoulder getting hit by it. Damian didn’t care though; he used all the momentum that the grappling gun had given him, plunging the gun at the villain’s mask, shattering the glass, allowing him to pull the trigger and deal the killing blow.

He rolled through the ground, his shoulder, hand, and feet aching. He got up, as if his feet hadn’t been burnt in the fight. He walked to the two corpses; one represented his weakness; the other was a scumbag that wouldn’t have to be dealt with anymore. He wouldn’t have to deal with him if he burned his corpse to mere ashes, making sure the Lazarus Pit can never revive him. However, he couldn’t do that in that place, in that moment; it would be only a matter of time before one of the heroes appeared, and he had to remove the armor to burn the body. He grabbed the corpse of the deceased super-villain, carrying him on the shoulder. He looked one last time at the now unrecognizable girl, mumbling “Sorry,” before grappling away.

…

Jonathan arrived at the city, too late to deal with the villain; flying above it, he counted the number of blocks that were destroyed (approximately 30). He tried to hear for survivors under the rubble of the collapsed buildings, taking them to the nearest healthcare. When he finished with that task, he noticed there was a place with a smell of burnt different than the rest. It smelled to compounds that were used to make a bright, intense, and short-lived reaction. He flied to the roof he had picked up the smell from. It was far from the disaster area. Beneath the smell of the metals used for the reaction, he could pick up the scent of burnt meat in the ashes. There was also a fireproof suit on the floor… and vomit. The place had an old façade, had been clearly abandoned; except he heard a heartbeat inside and a bunch of water crashing to the floor in the level beneath him.  
He entered the building, warily. In the level below there was a bed and a bunch of storage filled with weapons, gadgets, clothes, and suits (he checked that with x-ray vision). He heard the water stopping, a towel rubbing against skin, fabric rubbing again, a belt buckling; then the door he was looking towards opened. He saw Damian for the first time in 9 months, and to his surprise, Damian hadn’t grown a bit since they had met.

Damian immediately realized Jon’s presence, unveiling his katana before recognizing the young man in front of him. Jonathan was bulkier, a bit taller and wore that big ‘S’ he will always remember him for. Damian panicked; it took him a second before he decided to activate his Leviathan transport tech. To his annoyance, Jon had already stolen his utility belt.

“You aren’t going to run away from me Damian” said Jon, thanking Tim in his mind for planning ahead in the case they were to meet Damian.

Damian was staring fiercely at Jon. He couldn’t flee, he could fight though; Jon didn’t know his Katana was magical, so he wouldn’t dodge his blow given he was overconfident in his abilities. Damian frowned; he didn’t want to repeat what he saw in his vision. He didn’t really know why, but that vision really affected him; he felt like he needed to prevent any similar development of events. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, he wouldn’t hurt Jon and Jon wouldn’t hurt him. “-tt- What are you doing here?”

“Well, I smelled something odd here, so I came to investigate. Firefly disappeared, so I feared he would be still running around. I should have expected you to kill him though,” Jon replied.

Damian knew that this wouldn’t end well for him; he would be either taken to the Manor, and he would have to deal with his family, or he would be taken to the Watchtower, and he would have to deal with the Justice League. Either way, he would have to deal with Batman, and he didn’t want to do anything with him right now. He sighed. “Well, you found me, so your investigation is over. Now, give me back my belt!”

Jon sighed. “Seriously? We don’t see each other for 9 months and you want to end this quick?” he puzzled. “Are you even happy that you see me?”

Damian looked away. He couldn’t say that a part of himself didn’t feel joyful for seeing Jon; but he would be taken to Batman, and he just saw a girl getting barbecued to death because of him. He took a deep breath. “Let’s be honest, if I don’t manage to escape, you’ll take me to the Watchtower or the bat-cave.”

“And why not prison?” teased Jon playfully. This annoyed Damian, who didn’t like that Jonathan wasn’t taking this seriously.

“Jon, be serious.”

“You’ve got even broodier D. Surprisingly, you aren’t the broodiest.”

“Jonathan, I’m warning you.”

“Okay,” said Jon raising his hands in the air. “Let’s make a deal: I don’t take you to the Watchtower, but we have to talk.”

Damian narrowed his eyes in distrust. It was Jon, it was his best friend, and a two-goody-shoes, but he didn’t believe that Jon would honor his part of the deal. In Jon’s mind, he had the upper hand, and the reality would be different if Damian wouldn’t refuse to use his sword against his friend. He had no other options (this is why you always bring kryptonite with you), he would have to stall for time until something inevitably demanded Jon’s attention, allowing him to escape. “Fine.”

Jon’s smile hit Damian hard, making him feel a combination of happiness, sadness, guilt, and anger. “Good… So, how have you been?”

“I’m fine, Jonathan,” scowled Damian.

Jon frowned. It was the same he had told him before KGBeast’s murder. “You told me that before and you weren’t fine. And I know that for a fact because I know what happened to Dick and Alfred. I’m done with you lying to my face!” scolded Jon.

Damian’s anger started to build up, he didn’t like people forcing him to talk about his feelings, even if it was Jon. “It’s true Kent! I was fine then; I am fine now. There is nothing to discuss in that regard.”

“Admit it Damian. Something’s been wrong. Do you seriously expect me to believe you that you were unfazed by Dick’s amnesia and Alfred’s death?”

“Shut up.”

“Do you expect me to believe you that you are fine in the League of Assassins?”

“Shut up!” Damian was glaring at Jon. His glare has gotten better.

But Jon was determined. “Make me.” Damian charged at Jon with his katana, and Jon was ready to spar, like in the old times. But Damian stopped in the last moment, just a swing away from Jon. Damian yelled, throwing the katana which plunged to a wall. Damian then looked to the floor, clenching his fists, biting his lip. Jon smirked “If you aren’t going to make me, then talk.”

“Okay! I guess I’m not fine! Why would I? Alfred died because of me! It doesn’t matter what anybody says, it was my fault! And a girl… a little girl… she couldn’t have had more than 6 years… that little girl died because of me!” Damian snapped. He was grabbing Jon’s shirt, tugging him hard so that Jon was at Damian’s eye level; their foreheads could almost touch. There was tears that refused to leave Damian’s eyes. Jon simply observed, surprised at Damian’s reaction. “What would I tell her parents if I were to speak to them?! That their blood died because I didn’t pull the trigger? That my hesitation… my, my weakness was the reason she’s dead?!” Damian paused for a moment, catching his breath. “I still can smell her Jon. That stench, the burnt meat, is still in my nose.” Damian paused again; tears were now rolling down his cheeks. “But I… I needed to make that contemplation. It doesn’t feel particularly cathartic to kill, quite the contrary in fact. I didn’t want blood that I regret on my hands again. I needed to make sure that it was the right choice to kill him.”

Damian’s hands weren’t grabbing Jon’s shirt anymore, they were covering his eyes. Jon gently took his hands, lowering them to see Damian’s face. It wasn’t something that he had ever seen, and maybe he would never see it again. He then pulled Damian into a hug, putting Damian’s face on his chest, wrapping his back, and scrubbing his hair. Damian whimpered. “Why haven’t you given up on me?”

“In my darkest moments, you kept believing on me. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t do the same?”

“What about the future? They are… terrified from me.” Jon frowned. “Before you ask, yes I know what happened due to the footage on my mask.” Off course Damian would have a camera on his mask, that kid had bat-paranoia.

Jon sighed. “You saved me from your evil big brother of the future. You don’t care about possible futures, I don’t either,” replied Jon.

Damian felt better. He felt a lot better. He pushed Jon away, wiping his tears. He was already regaining his composure, putting up his walls again. He already felt embarrassed for the lack of control he had shown. “You don’t get to tell anyone about this, or I’m shoving kryptonite up your ass.”

“Aww, but Maya will definitely want to know about this,” teased Jon with a playful grin. Damian glared daggers at him. “Fine,” added Jon, still grinning. He was indeed fine with being the only one to know Damian in that vulnerable state. It made him feel special.

“So, do you have anything worthwhile you would like to tell me?” asked Damian. “In reference to yourself, I mean,” he immediately clarified.

“I’ve been fine, really. The future has been fun and interesting. I’ve made a bunch of friends in the Legion, I even managed to get on good terms with Mon-el (we started with the wrong foot). Also, in the future…” Jon continued rambling for a long time. For once Damian relaxed. He wasn’t thinking about the damn coup’ or advancing his agenda; he was simply listening to his best friend talking about his life, and it was good even if a bit normal.

…

He didn’t have any more ideas to stall for time in the conversation, he was sure he was going to get captured.

“Well…” said Jon scrubbing the back of his head.

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Knew it.” He had a remarkably simple plan to escape that could backfire horribly, but he needed Jonathan distracted for a second. So, the plan now had to be expanded; it wouldn’t be risky, it would be idiotically risky. It wasn’t his style… let’s be real here, it was totally his style of plan. His plans had always this dramatic flair; his kills, his sabotages, his deceptions, everything, had to have some level of theatric performance.

“Sorry D,” said Jon. And Damian took the chance to glare daggers at him, making Jon’s resolve falter for a moment. A moment was enough for Damian, he put his lips, his hands, in a certain way, a very precise way, that if he understood well enough Kryptonian biology, would produce an ultrasound frequency that would stunt Jon. He had been practicing this ability ever since he came back to the League of Assassins, the ability to produce ultrasounds with his body so that he could call Goliath in a range of 200 meters, or manipulate bats in a range of 200 meters into aggressive chaos; this ability was a contingency if he, for one reason or another, were to miss his equipment. It proved to be useful right now, except for a caveat: if he were to use the Goliath frequency he would always nail it, if he were to use the bat frequency he would nail it 75% of the time, and he estimated, as he has never tried, a 25% success rate for the anti-kryptonian frequency. It turned out that he was lucky enough to pull it out. If he continued training his ability, no one would never have to know that it was pure luck.

He had 3 seconds to execute his escape. He had hidden in a bunch of places a self-destruction button, one of them happening to be near the window. So, he ran towards it, pressing it and jumping out of the building, shattering the glass on his way. Not that the destruction of the window mattered, as a mere 2 seconds later, the building had been demolished in a big explosion. Damian was hit on the back of his body by the explosion, getting multiple shards of glass incrusted on it. He landed with a roll, which was painful given the shards on his back. He didn’t have time to waste though, he quickly pulled a pill he had been saving on one of his additional pockets (he didn’t have to save everything on his utility belt). He swallowed it while running.

It wouldn’t have been painful if it were the unique dose he had taken in the day; in fact, he had been taking the medicine every day. It was a pill to change his heart rhythm. He didn’t need Supergirl, the Superboys or Superman finding him through hearing his heartbeat. But now that Jon had found him, he needed to change once more his heartbeat. He had an overdose, and it caused an arrhythmic heartbeat. He now couldn’t strain himself too much, or he would risk cardiac arrest or permanent arrythmia. He began to merely walk, and took a turn on the corner, hoping that Jon wouldn’t find him behind there. He took deep breaths, very deep breaths. It wouldn’t lower his heart rate, or solve the arrhythmic heartbeat, but it helped with the pain.

So far, the plan had backfired as much as he predicted. He was in pain and injured, and couldn’t run, or fight, but he successfully fled. Except… it was Bludhaven at night, which meant, among other things, the typical street robber without too many lights. He approached Damian with a handgun.

“Hey buddy, if you would like to continue living-” Damian didn’t even let him finish before he had knocked out the assailant with one kick to the chin. Damian put a hand on his heart. Stupid criminal, you don’t simply try to rob the kid dressed up like an assassin. Anyways, the brief exchange allowed Jonathan to find him, and he didn’t like what he just found: Damian was in great pain, and just gave him a distrust look.

Ever since he has known Damian, he had a complete disregard for his own safety when the odds weren’t in his favor. He knew for a fact that Damian was capable of purposefully sacrificing a limb if he deemed the objective important enough to do so. Heck, he would sacrifice his life, and for what he has talked with Tim, resign himself to a life in hell if he could protect what he loved that way. He hated how self-sacrificial sometimes Damian was.

“Dami, you have to understand that I’m not your enemy,” commented Jonathan.

“Jon, believe me, I understand,” replied Damian, while destroying the comm he had brought with himself. “You didn’t have to hear me out or talk with me as if nothing happened. The same way that I could have hurt you, but I didn’t.”

Jon didn’t believe him at first, but he quickly realized that Damian was telling the truth. He had a way to get out of there, harming Jonathan, and decided against it. Because of it, the idiot got hurt in a risky plan. But it was a bit uncharacteristic of Damian; he was sure Batman would have hurt him if he were in the same situation, and Damian was more cynic than Batman. He shouldn’t dwell on that right now, instead, he should save his friend from himself. He quickly knocked out Damian with a well-placed punch.

…

_  
Damian was visiting Bludhaven. It was a purely work visit; he didn’t have time to indulge in weaklings’ activities such as having closure over his brother’s death. He did stay a long time over the rooftop he usually went with Nightwing to talk. He also went to the ice cream shop he would usually visit with his brother; he asked for a gelato and a cone of strawberry, Richard’s favorite. He licked the strawberry one, immediately thinking that Richard had no taste, it was too sweet. However, he kept eating the ice cream._

_He noticed a girl on another rooftop, she looked rather sad. She was also alone, and she couldn’t be more than 6-years-old. Abandonment? Conflictive household? Abuse? … He shouldn’t be thinking in Colin right now. Anyways, there was only one way of finding out. He wore a blend of civilian clothes and the assassin suit (a jacket and some joggers on top of the suit; it made for a quick change, but it made it easy if he went undercover). He grappled his way to the roof where the girl was; he took the hood and mask off.  
He had to remember his training; he had to sound comforting. “Hello,” Damian said with a serious tone and a serious face. The girl jumped at the surprise, when she studied the eleven-year-old face (because he sure as hell didn’t look fifteen) and became worried. Damian had to admit, he was bad at comforting. He took a deep breath, and summoned the softest tone he could muster “Can I sit here?” The girl nodded, looking at the ice creams the kid held._

_He took a seat besides the girl, one meter away from her. He really valued his space, so he didn’t want to intrude hers. He realized that the gelato was melting, dripping over his joggers. Great! The strawberry ice cream was also starting to melt. He didn’t want to combine the flavors of both ice creams, or eat in a rush, so he extended his hand with the gelato to the girl. He didn’t look at her, and the gelato was dripping all over his glove; also, you aren’t supposed to accept things from strangers. It was understandable that the girl hesitated, but she took it._

_They ate their ice creams in silence, until Damian broke it. “What are you doing here alone?” this time the sentence didn’t come off that brash._

_“Sometimes, I prefer to be alone,” she answered, looking in the opposite direction to Damian. Needless to say, she was hiding something._

_“I get that. People are annoying. But this city is too dangerous for a kid to be outside alone.”_

_“But aren’t you a kid too?”_

_Damian frowned. He resisted the temptation to glare at her. It would terrify her. “I’ve had a rough childhood. It made me though. I’ll manage,” he shrugged. Then he looked at her inquisitively. The girl got nervous. It was obvious she wanted to tell him something, but she wasn’t sure. Damian could try to connect with her more. “People tend to judge me before they get to know me. To be fair, it’s partially my fault, I tend to give the wrong impression. But what happened can’t be simply shaken by a shower.”_

_“Me too,” finally said the girl. Damian had his full attention on her. “The other kids say I’m too quiet. They pick up on me for it. The teachers won’t do anything about it. I don’t understand why they like it loud and noisy. I don’t understand why they bully me.”_

_Damian felt angry. The authorities, as always, didn’t do anything to help this girl. It was always the same, people hurt other people, and when the other people hurt back their aggressors, the authorities suddenly cared. Teaching her to defend herself could make the situation worse, but it could prevent a catastrophe if the bullying escalated.  
He was digressing. He didn’t want to know the situation at her school. He wanted to know the situation at her home. “That doesn’t explain why you aren’t at your home.”  
She hesitated again, but she already felt like she could tell the stranger in front of her. “My parents are always fighting, shouting at each other. I don’t like to be home.”  
“Do they throw things or hit each other?”_

_“… Yes… and yes.”_

_Damian had solved the mystery. A conflictive household. He didn’t know the exact details, but they weren’t needed. It wouldn’t surprise him if the girl were hit once or twice during their discussions. He knew what happened, but he didn’t know what to do with the information. He doubted threatening her parents with a sword into solving their conflicts in a civilized manner would help. There wasn’t a skill that he could teach her that would solve the matter at hand. He could, at least, make her feel accompanied, while he figured it out._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Danna. What’s yours?”_

_“Damian,” he smirked, “nice to meet you.” And she gave him a light smile._

_All of a sudden, an explosion was heard in a nearby street. Panic could be heard, people were running, a psycho was flying; it was the Firefly. He had to kill him before he could hurt more civilians. Damian took Danna by the arms. “Listen, you need to run. Go grab your family and run to the opposite direction from the explosion.”_

_“Where are you going?”_

_“I’m going for my family. Now go! This isn’t something to discuss.” The girl turned and went running inside the building. Damian quickly took off his jacket and joggers, putting his hood and mask up. He unveiled his katana, grappling towards the villain._

_…_

_He teamed up with the Nightwing pretenders, to end the disaster quickly. It should have been easy, but there was a big hurdle: there were two Fireflies, and Damian had only his throwable daggers as his ranged weapons. The pretenders were incapacitated in battle, but they were alive. The last pretender standing, and Damian had managed to take down one Firefly, but Damian was left to fight alone the other one with a bunch of burns all over his body._

_Then Firefly took notice of a family over the distance. It was Danna crying, and her parents arguing over where to run. Damian attempted to grapple onto Firefly; he didn’t make it though. “Run you idiots!” he shouted as he dashed in full speed to tail Firefly. He was no match; Firefly had spare time incinerate the family, before turning to Damian._

_Damian was boiling in a righteous murder rage. He summoned his magic dagger, throwing it to the villain, landing the dagger on his shoulder (which is a reckless move, given the nature of the dagger). He jumped the highest he could, and with a swift move of his katana, he beheaded the maniac._

_He should’ve moved; heroes would appear in no time and he had to burn the corpse of the Firefly so that he couldn’t be revived. But there he was, looking at the corpses of the family. He was hurting, more than he should. Maybe it’s because it wasn’t a nameless, faceless girl; maybe it’s because the circumstances of her death could’ve been prevented if her parents weren’t idiots (he could relate); maybe it’s because he made the conscious attempt, for once in his life, to connect to somebody, and life slapped him in the face for that. Whatever it was, tears started rolling down._

_Then, he felt a strong current of wind and dust. “-TT-” He should have gone away when he had the chance; now he would have to fight. He wiped his tears, took a fighting stance, and turned to see his opponent. It was none other than Superman. He couldn’t look him in the face right now, after breaking the promise he made to him. The blue in his suit reminded him of the boy he once called best friend. He wasn’t in an emotional state where he could fight, and if he attempted to calm down, he feared that the exhaustion and pain would make him pass out (adrenaline had been keeping him conscious). He still had something up his sleeve though._

_“It’s over Damian. Surrender, and we won’t have to fight,” demanded Superman. Damian gave him a bored look, taking out the kryptonite in his utility belt. Superman stepped back, feeling a mild ache in some of his muscles._

_“Unfortunately, I have no intension of surrendering or fighting,” replied Damian. He walked to the corpse of Firefly, to retrieve the dagger, but a winding stopped him. It was the pretenders; they were up again and surrounding him. He had just helped them, but they had the ‘no killing’ rule. He could beat them if Superman weren’t there, but the conditions of winning for the pretenders are different: they only had to take the Kryptonite away so Superman could help. He did the sensible thing: he fled using the Leviathan transporter. He lost the dagger but at least he wouldn’t be captured this time.  
_

Damian woke up, his face wet; he had cried. He was tied up against a chair. How? He had successfully escaped Superman. Then it hit him: it wasn’t real, or at least, not his reality. He had a vision again. Would they appear every time he slept? That wasn’t important right now; he had to remember. He didn’t have ice cream with Danna, in fact, he wasn’t in Bludhaven when the attack started, he went there to fight the disaster. He killed Firefly with a bullet to the head after he had killed Danna, which now that he (kinda) knew her, was more depressing. He hadn’t lost his dagger then. He met Jon, embarrassingly cried over him, talked with him, and got expectedly captured. The pain in his back was there, but the shards had been removed, and the bleeding had stopped.

So, now he was here. It wasn’t the Bat-cave. It wasn’t the Watchtower. It was a Warehouse. Wait, he knew this place, it is the base he gave to Colin. There was a big chance that this had nothing to do with his father.

“It seems like you are up.”

He knew that voice. “Drake,” Damian growled. “You were too slow in noticing. Even with the low esteem I had you in, I didn’t expect for you to be that big of a turtle.”

“I knew you were up from the beginning. I just needed to realize…”

“Realize what Drake?”

“That this has nothing to do with Batman,” said Drake walking to face Damian directly. They glared at intensely each other. “I just want to negotiate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was the second chapter. It didn't explore the League of Shadows at all, but I promise I will explore it further in the next chapter. I just wanted to explore further the conflict between Damian and his friends. Also, I will explain Jon's motivations for acting this way in the next chapter.
> 
> So what's your opinion? Do you think Damian's kills (Joker, KGBeast, Bane, Victor Szass, Professor Pyg and the 'villanous' targets) are justified?


	3. Stockholm Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gets rescued.

“What is the plan now Bruce?” Drake asked after the news of Damian’s betrayal had been revealed. 

“There is no plan,” replied Batman.

Drake was dumbfounded. “You must be kidding.” Drake waited but there was no response. “You aren’t kidding.” He was personally offended. “Is this for real?! Robin defected a few hours ago and you don’t have a plan?!” There were a few seconds of silence. “You didn’t say ‘Working on it’ so you aren’t even devising one,” Drake added with a more silent tone of voice, almost a whisper.

“I don’t have enough information to devise a plan yet,” explained Batman. His tone of voice didn’t have a hint of emotion, which was normal for Batman, but sometimes it got to Tim’s nerves.

“Don’t bullshit me Bruce. If that were true you would’ve said that we needed more information before devising a plan,” scolded Tim. “And it isn’t even true. We both know why Damian did it. We both know how much you mean to him Bruce. So, don’t pretend you can’t convince him to come back.” Because even though it was special treatment, they couldn’t simply throw Damian into jail, as it would compromise the identities of the bat-family (Damian would no doubt reveal their identities if he were to face trial, and he would back it up with evidence). If they locked him up in a private prison, it would be hypocrisy. The same goes for brainwashing. Killing him for killing criminals is a big no, even without the implied hypocrisy. The only course of action available is to convince him to come back.

“We don’t know where-”

“You are the world greatest detective, and you expect me to believe that you can’t track him down.” Tim was so done with Bruce right now. He walked off the conversation before Bruce snapped his usual ‘ENOUGH!’ when cornered. If Bruce wouldn’t do something, then he would. He was the one to find evidence that Bruce was lost in time, he was more than capable of finding the demon brat (provided enough time).

**After the encounter at the cave**

The demon brat knew how to cover his marks; he could modify his voice and was a master in makeup. He could pass as a nobody. Tim suspected that Damian wouldn’t simply live in a League of Assassins base waiting to be extracted; no, the kid would be surely all over the world advancing the League of Assassins goals. That last statement didn’t set right with him. The League of Assassins wanted to kill innocents for being weak environment destroyers, and there was no evidence of Damian wanting to kill innocent people. Furthermore, he went back to the organization that had tortured him for years. It made no sense. Unless…

Off course! Damian was trying to reform the League! He didn’t think that Damian would simply wait for Ra’s Al Ghul to die, as he would have to wait many years and it meant a lot of innocent people dead. No… Damian would take a proactive approach. Damian couldn’t simply go and kill his grandfather and take control over the League; he would have to gain the support of a faction of assassins.

That wasn’t great. First, because it would be a worldwide conflict with great loss of life, not just inside the League. Second, because his brother could die in that conflict. In fact, he was sure he did. Conner had mentioned that Jon had found a like three liters of blood scattered all over a place were Deathstroke and Damian had supposedly fought; after some tests, it was determined that all the blood belonged to Damian. You simply don’t lose that much blood without dying. But off course, no body was found (Black Mask would’ve made Robin’s corpse an example of not messing with his criminal empire), and Lazarus pits do exist. Alas! Damian showed up in the Batcave later anyways, clearing any doubt that he was (indeed) alive.

Well, he would have to prove that his suspicions were reality, which would prove way more difficult than he had first thought (the kid was doing a fine job at hiding the coup).

**Two weeks before the civil war**

“Whatever you have to offer, I don’t want to hear it. I’m sure I stand to gain nothing from a fucking duck,” mocked Damian.

Tim was hardly surprised by the rude response of Damian. If anything, he had expected for it to be ruder. He sighed. “There it goes, the angry brat we all know and love.” Damian opened his mouth to answer, but he closed it, realizing he didn’t have any good comeback. “Look Damian, I know the truth.” Damian narrowed his eyes; he didn’t say anything as he knew it could be a trick to get actual information out of him. They stayed in silence for a moment, glaring at each other. Then Drake smirked, pulling a hologram out of a pocket, showing Damian the list he had shown the others.

Damian looked at the list, and immediately realized that they knew the truth. He reasoned that in a certain way it benefited him that they had that kind of information, that way they wouldn’t oppose him that thoroughly. However, it could seriously endanger the coup, considering that one of the possible request Drake could make would possibly reveal the aliveness of hundreds of people. He took a closer look to the list and was relieved to see that they didn’t have the complete truth. Even though he was the one who was captured, he had the upper hand in information.

Damian stayed silent for a while, pondering his options. He finally settled for “Very well Drake, you have my full attention.”

Tim was surprised. Damian, his stubborn bratty brother, had relented easily. He must have changed a lot in these 9 months. He was worried that the change would have been for the worse; now, he wasn’t sure. Jon had mentioned how Damian almost attacked him but didn’t, which was truly strange because he had expected Damian to become more aggressive, more arrogant, and more closed off.

“You are planning a coup on the League of the Assassins. I want to help you, providing you the assistance of Young Justice and the Titans.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“You won’t be able to get help from the underworld, outside of your organization.”

Damian’s eyes widened. Young Justice by itself was a multitude of immensely powerful heroes; although the numbers of the Titans were moderate, they were a powerful team too. He also had to take into account of getting the help from his own friends, except probably Jonathan; they were all powerful fighters in their own right. However, “Drake, this isn’t a convenient deal. Leviathan is a way more powerful ally than the Titans and Young Justice combined. And I know for a fact, my mother would be thrilled to help me dethrone that old geezer.”

“Yeah, but we need to control the collateral damage of such an event. Having heroes instead of low-lives on your side ensures that.”

Damian shook his head, then glared at Drake. “You seriously think I don’t have a plan to reduce collateral damage to a minimum? I’m offended that you regard me in such low esteem; it proves that you don’t know anything about me.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “I’m aware you must have a plan to reduce the civilian casualties in the event of a civil war Damian. However, aligning yourself with Leviathan greatly reduces the effectiveness of such a plan,” replied Drake. Before Damian could protest, he added “Having a plan to reduce civilian casualties doesn’t mean that your allies will act the same way. Besides, you wouldn’t have to give nothing in exchange to that criminal organization.”

Damian scoffed. “Off course I’m aware of my allies being less scrupulous than me. I have that covered. Furthermore, you are forgetting the problem at hand… if they don’t ally with me, they will probably fight against me. If I were to have them neutral, I’ll have to give them something in exchange, negating that advantage.”

Tim sighed. “You are right; however, if I’m getting things correctly, you’ll have to divert resources to make up for the lack of morality of your allies. Moreover, you may have to give something for neutrality, but not as much if you ally with them.”

Damian was getting annoyed. He was already annoyed by the whole kidnapping, but this ludicrous attempt of a treaty was really getting on his nerves. Nevertheless, he would stay calm, he didn’t want to make a scene like with Jon earlier. “Drake be real. If I accept this deal it would mean more people on my side getting killed as a result of having heroes who would prevent the use of lethal options. If I come back announcing that I made such a deal, I would lose a great chunk of the support I have for the coup, which in the best-case scenario means the obliteration of my side.”

“So, what you are saying is that you’ll lose the support of your League of Shadows if they don’t get to kill.”

“Pretty much,” shrugged Damian. “They are **assassins** for hell’s sake Drake!”

Drake rubbed the temples in annoyance. Now Damian was being the stubborn prick he knew and hated. “Damian, I thought this whole coup on the League of Assassins was about reforming it for the better! Why are they going to rebel on you for doing just that!”

“Some people have to be killed!” Damian snapped. “The whole coup is about not killing innocent people; refraining to resort to crime to financially support the League; stop those dumb depopulation plans; and stop having world domination as a goal. Killing belligerents has absolutely nothing to do with that!”

Drake sighed, glaring back at Damian. The team was observing the glare fight through a camera. “Look Damian, the number of corpses on your hand exceeds what I would understand for _some_.”

Damian was about to rebottle but realized before he opened his mouth that he would reveal too much. His mouth stayed shut, which Drake took as winning this argument.

“Anyways, you also have to consider that you’ll stay kidnapped as long as you don’t accept the negotiation.”

Damian was tempted to accept the deal to later go back on his word, but he was sure that Drake wasn’t stupid enough to just believe in his word; he would guarantee the treaty in some way.

“Fuck you Drake! The League of Shadows can operate with or without my input!” angrily replied Damian.

Drake was unimpressed. He simply walked towards Damian putting a hand on his shoulder, taking his domino mask away to have an eye to eye. “But will it operate as efficiently?” then he tapped Damian’s shoulder, turned his back, and walked away from Damian screaming rather graphical threats (he had actually got better in making them). He then entered a soundproof room where the whole team was, who had observed the whole exchange.

Colin was pinching his nose. “Why is Damian always this stubborn?”

After pecking her boyfriend in the cheek, Steph smirked. “I think it’s on his genes.” Tim chuckled at the statement; he knew how Bruce could be sometimes.

“I think it runs on the family,” added Tim looking funnily at her, reminding her that everyone in that family was stubborn, specially her. She laughed at the remark.

Duke was sitting on the corner, looking away from the couple. Cassandra was sitting beside him, noting his rather tense mood; she knew the reason because she felt the same way. Duke took notice of how Cass was looking at him. He sighed, turning to see the group that had gathered at the center of the room. “That went better than I expected. It seems like Damian now has a smaller stick up his ass.”

Everyone laughed at the comment made by Duke. Still, when the laughter in the room mellowed, the tension between the members of the bat-family hadn’t disappeared in the slightest. When Tim looked at Duke and he looked back, the exchange quickly turned into another glaring fight. Steph defused the situation by gently holding Tim’s chin and giving him a passionate kiss. Duke was left to brood.

Suren was bored by the drama, Maya was simply annoyed, Colin was nervous, and Jonathan was exhausted. He didn’t want to witness the bat-family drama for the third time in a week after kidnapping his best friend. He just looked at the others, signaling with his head to get out of the room. They went to hang out on a pizzeria.

Meanwhile, Damian waited. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he knew that eventually someone would be dispatched to rescue him.

**3 days later**

Four teens that were quite funny looking were walking down the street, when one of them spotted a sandwich mobile stall. The girl runs over to the post, making her order. The girl is weirdly clothed; she uses skinny Jeans, a thick plaid shirt, brown cowboy boots, a utility belt, black rubber gloves, a pair of orange industrial gloves and a builder helmet. It seems like she didn’t receive the memo: they aren’t in Texas; they are in Gotham.

“Are you going to order something?” she asked, addressing the other three teens who just arrived, ignoring the odd looks everyone was giving them.

The one of Latin-American origin proceeded to make his order. He had a very chill attitude, a light smile, which contrasted (but not heavily) with the overly excited attitude of the girl. He had an elegant gray coat, that was more for fashion than practical for autumn, a black shirt, khaki pants, and black clean sneakers that surprisingly combined with the outfit. He also had sunglasses, which was odd, considering it was already dark. He was tall for his age.

“I pass Engineer,” said the other teen, referring to the girl. Given the accent of this one, he was most definitely from Europe. He was more serious than the other two. He was also more casual looking (a waterproof dark red jacket, a brown fabric hat, broad jeans, and black rain boots) and would completely pass unnoticed if it weren’t for the group.

The final teen just nodded and pointed to the sandwich she wanted to take. While the first teen was blonde with a ponytail, and the other two teens had black hair, she had short brown hair. Her eyes were purple. Her outfit was weird for autumn, just a black t-shirt and a dark blue short skirt and long black socks with ballet shoes. What was terrifying of this one was her tattoo of a white and black dragon that ran through all her left arm, and that wicked scar she had on her neck. The two last ones had neutral faces.

They received their sandwiches and went to a market to buy drinks. The Texan girl bought a beer bottle (which being Gotham, off course they sold her the beer), the elegant boy bought a coke, the ‘normal’ boy bought a bottle of water, and the other girl a juice box. They sat at the ledge of the street, to eat their meal. When Engineer opened her beer, the ‘normal’ scoffed. “Getting drunk before a mission isn’t very professional.” The dragon girl nodded energetically in agreement.

“Oh, shut up you two! It’s just one beer bottle!” protested Engineer.

The elegant boy laughed and shook his head. “Well Number Four, you haven’t attended to the parties we go to, so you wouldn’t know how much alcohol she can take. I pity her liver.”

Number Four rolled his eyes. “I don’t attend those parties because they are boring. It seems like people go there just to get drunk, and as a professional, I can’t risk having a slippery tongue.”

Engineer rolled her eyes. “You worry too much! Neither Mind Specter nor I have slipped our tongue once. You simply can’t relent some of your control. You and the little boss are so much alike, both of you are control freaks!”

_“The boss would death-glare at you for that last remark. In fact, he would be scolding us four for getting so much attention,”_ said the girl with the dragon tattoo in sign language. They glanced around to see the people passing by giving them odd looks.

Mind Specter smirked. “Don’t worry too much Lighty,” he began glancing at his clock to see the time. “In about fifteen minutes, they’ll have more to worry about than four suspicious teens.” The girl crossed her arms, looking away.

“Light Dragon, what is it?” gently inquired Number Four to the upset girl.

Light Dragon turned again to see her friends. _“I’m not okay with how we are going to bust the boss out,”_ replied the girl in sign language. _“I’m sure he doesn’t approve either.”_

Mind Specter sighed. “Look, if it were up to us, we wouldn’t do it this way. But since the Demon’s head found out, it isn’t a League of Shadows matter anymore.”

_“I know, I know. Still, it doesn’t make it right,”_ replied the girl.

They continued chatting lightly over their meal for thirty minutes. The extra fifteen minutes were to be sure that the bat-family had been notified of the disaster, so that the facility where Damian was being held had been deserted. The group went into a deserted alleyway, verifying no one was watching them. Number Four took off his jacket and jeans, revealing the real suit he had put on (complete with a utility belt) and the extra arms he had. Mind Specter touched everyone in the group, making them fly with him toward their destination.

…  
The members of the bat-family had gone to help in the breakout in Arkham. Even though Batman wouldn’t be pleased, Superboy went with them because they weren’t going to stop him from helping. That left Maya, Colin and Suren to watch over Damian and prevent him from escaping.

Damian had been, well, Damian during his imprisonment, although he was a bit mellowed. He didn’t shout again at his captors since the first exchange, just death-glared at them. Cassandra, Duke and Steph weren’t allowed to see him face to face so that their involvement with the plan wasn’t known to Damian, and in the attempt of a breakout he didn’t expect them. It was one of the reasons why Duke and Cassandra were upset at Tim, but it was far from the only one.

Damian also hadn’t eaten or drunk until the third day of captivity (he refused to eat from literally the hand of other people); even then, it wasn’t because his hunger had won over his stubbornness, but because Superboy stubbornness had won over Damian’s. Basically, Superboy said that if Damian didn’t eat his food or drink his water, he would spit them into his mouth. Funny thing, he was serious. Damian, horrified at the prospect, obliged.

When the breakout in Arkham was reported, they knocked out Damian to prevent him from escaping. Still, the possibility of someone coming to break him out was very real; that’s why Colin, Maya and Suren remained behind. The building didn’t have any lights on; they remained in the main room with Damian, instead of the soundproof one.

They saw silhouettes on the upper windows of the facility. Nobody was already cloaked, while Colin was transforming into Abuse and Dagger just waited patiently. Meanwhile, the team of assassins was levitating outside the three windows. _“They have already spotted us, I read three heat signals apart from the boss, one of them transforming into a Titan. It’s venom,”_ said Light Dragon. Mind Specter made a count down with his fingers; when he got to zero, they busted through the windows.

When they reached the ground, Light Dragon held an imaginary sphere in her hands; soon, a light started to materialize between her hands. It was so intense that it was almost blinding; the attackers weren’t too affected as they had already trained to work under it. “I see only two fighters. We have an invisible one,” pointed out Number Four. Understanding the queue, Light Dragon sphere shifted a little, including some ultraviolet light that made the third defendant visible. The defendants were impressed by the ability of the attackers. The combat hadn’t started, and they had already spotted Nobody. Besides, the light implied somewhat of a disadvantage.

However, Abuse had practiced with Damian to fight in the darkness; being blinded wouldn’t pose a problem for him. He closed his eyes. Meanwhile Engineer took her guns out, aiming them at Abuse. After barely seeing this, Nobody threw a smoke bomb at the attackers. The smoke bomb significantly reduced the intensity of the light. “Abuse, open your eyes!” He opened them again, barely evading the shot that was aimed at him.

Dagger manipulated the smoke to concentrate around the source of light, after all his sorcery was heavily based on fire. The light got trapped inside the dense cloud of smoke, heating the cloud up, burning Light Dragon’s hands. Light Dragon instantly recoiled and ended her light source.

Dagger then cooled and moved the smoke towards her lungs, asphyxiating her. Mind Specter instantly understood what was going on; he touched the girl, then made a hand swing to pull out the smoke. Dagger flinched at the response. Light Dragon was out of the fight but not in mortal danger.

Concurrently, now that they were in the dark again, Nobody and Engineer activated their heat visions. Nobody lunged at Number Four but was stopped by a series of shots by the Engineer. “Chastity belt, auto-aim guns,” ordered Engineer. Facing the barrage of bullets, Nobody had to take cover. She would have to find a way to close up on the Texan girl.

At the same time, Abuse was lounging at Number Four, who wielded his four swords. Number Four evaded Abuse’s attacks while managing to inflict only superficial damage; he understood that if Abuse managed to hit him once, he would chain up the attack and knock him out of the fight.

Dagger began throwing fireballs at Mind Specter, who blocked them using the smoke he had gained control of. Dagger noted that the man he was combating didn’t move a hand to move the smoke cloud; he also realized that the man was walking towards him, closing in. He summoned a ring of fire that surrounded Mind Specter; at the same time, he threw multiple fireballs. For the first time, Mind Specter crouched to evade the fireballs, while using the smoke to put out the fire ring.

Dagger noticed the knife that was thrown behind him, barely dodging it so that his flesh would be merely grazed. He instantly noticed the effects of a poison and used a detox spell. However, the time was enough for him having to switch from offense to defense because there were a bunch of knifes getting thrown at him which he had to evade. Dagger finally got serious, invoking a fire current and riding it, closing on Mind Specter. They started a hand-to-hand combat with a bunch of fire and floating knifes thrown into the mix.

Light Dragon had recuperated (not fully however). She ran towards the spot where Damian was being held (which was like a circle where that fight didn’t as a result of a tacit agreement). She heated up with her hands the chains that held him, breaking them easily. She took her unconscious boss, putting him on her shoulder, and made a run for the high up windows. When she reached them, the windows disappeared, getting replaced by a concrete wall. Dagger smirked, his spell had worked; he was also winning the combat and would soon knock out his opponent.

Everyone in both groups were keeping up with everything that was happening in the room. Engineer decided that she would knock out the sorcerer. “Chastity belt, select targets,” she said, pointing to Nobody, Dagger and Abuse. “Fire rockets.” The belt fired a bunch of rockets that followed an eccentric trajectory towards their targets. All of them evaded the explosives. However, the need to evade those rockets instantly gave the upper hand to Mind Specter, who touched Dagger with the palm of his hand, slamming him to the wall with his telekinesis, knocking him out of the fight.

The spell wore off, allowing Light Dragon to escape, and soon enough, everybody else. Light Dragon planted some explosives in her way out, allowing them to not be followed.

…

“So, let’s see if I got it correctly,” said Batman, anger clear in his voice. The three teenagers were a bit intimidated by it. They already got scolded, they didn’t want to be on the end of the bat-glare again. “Four powerful assassins got here and fought you.” Colin nodded, bandages covering all of his body. “One of them has a chastity belt that can fire bullets and rockets,” Maya nodded. “And they defeated you and rescued Damian,” Suren clenched his teeth.

“I want a rematch. I would’ve totally won against that assassin if it weren’t for that belt,” complained Suren, crossing his arms. Batman raised an eyebrow.

“It’s crazy to think that a chastity belt of all things can do such a thing,” Duke commented. Maya, Colin, and Suren glared at him. “Relax, I’m not saying I don’t believe you.”

“Anyways, what happened during the breakout?” asked Maya, curious of the multiple wounds everyone had.

“We got it under control. All inmates were successfully recaptured, except for two that were killed,” replied Batgirl.

“Thankfully, we got Jonathan there; if it weren’t for him it wouldn’t have gone as well as it had,” commented Steph. Batman glared at her. She shrugged. “Just spiting facts.”

Batman clenched his fists, hitting the table where they were sitting. The bat-family was unimpressed, Jonathan rolled his eyes and the three teens were afraid. “This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you hadn’t kidnapped Damian and acted behind my back! First, when you realized that Damian was planning a coup you should’ve informed me immediately!” he said looking at Tim. Tim didn’t break the eye contact, even though guilt was filling him. “Second, none of you should’ve participated in this plan!” the rest of them looked away, ashamed. Except Steph, who was annoyed. “Third, you know the rules, no metas in Gotham!” he finalized, looking at Superboy. Superboy resisted the temptation to roll his eyes… again.

“By that logic, what are we going to do with Duke and Colin? They are both metas. Are you going to deport them to Metropolis?” sarcastically asked Steph. Batman glared at her, preparing to lash out at her. She stood up, glaring back at him. “We did what we did because last time I checked, the way you handled things was the reason why Damian ran away.”

“ENOUGH! All of you are benched indefinitely!” screamed Batman.

Steph remained stoic, without even flinching. “No! THIS conversation is long overdue, so you’ll hear us out!” Batman closed his mouth, just giving a hard look. “We all have responsibility in this issue, starting with the birthdays. Nobody remembered Damian’s thirteenth birthday except Alfred, and the only one who had an excuse was Jonathan because he didn’t even know Damian at that moment. Later, in his fourteenth birthday, his friends remembered his birthday, but his family didn’t. Even then, he was on a mission the day of his birthday, with a team that hated him, which meant that no celebration took place.” Everyone in the room was feeling guilty in one way or another.

“Now, after Alfred’s death, you allow your own kid blame himself for the death of Alfred, ignoring the fact that it was **your** decision, based on a lie Alfred told, while you were taking a fucking vacation. Later, when you realize what he’s been doing, you beat him up, ensuring that he won’t come back anytime soon. So, I’m sorry if you feel like we should’ve told the father who abandoned him, because we don’t feel that way.”

Batman remained silent, anger boiling below his cowl. Duke was the one who decided to speak this time “Still, this plan wasn’t the most brilliant anyways. Trying to convince Damian with the sibling whose relationship is the most strained apart from Jason wasn’t the sharpest plan, now was it?”

Tim sighed. “Duke we have already talked about this. You weren’t allowed to talk to Damian to have the strategic advantage in case of an escape.”

Duke frowned. “Yeah but did it didn’t matter in the end. And everyone in that fucking plan of yours had the opportunity to talk to him, except Cass and me.”

“I feel… upset too. I know what stay the League of Assassins is. I can connect with him. That is more valuable than strategic advantage.”

“I agree with Duke and Cass,” said Jonathan, arms crossed. “They should’ve talked with Damian. After all, we agree that Damian’s issue wasn’t only losing Dick and Alfred but getting abandoned by everyone left.” He looked at Tim directly in the eye. “Tim, from your family, you weren’t the only one capable of convincing Damian to accept such a plan. You are the one who he admires the most apart from Batman, and he loves Steph; however, he respects Cassandra and likes Duke the most.”

Duke raised an eyebrow. “How do you know all of that?”

Jon chuckled, then he unfolded his arms and smirked. “Well Duh, I’m his best friend! Off course being Damian, he wouldn’t admit anything. Nevertheless, there are those little details that reveal his true feelings. How he attempted to continue Tim’s legacy by forming the new Teen Titans. How he mentions that he has seen certain movies with Steph or Duke. The small hint of longing when he says he hasn’t talked too much with Steph lately. How he practices a move he has seen orphan do.”

Jon didn’t stop at the family. “How he spoke of Colin as a more serious partner. The faint rage he had when he told me how his father didn’t totally trust Suren. The poorly concealed envy when he complained about Maya’s and Kathy’s friendship.” Jon had a sad smile thinking about it. But in the case of Jon, Damian didn’t try too hard to hide how he felt about him. It wasn’t obvious, but it wasn’t subtle; you didn’t have to read between lines, you only had to put some attention in how Damian would refer to Jon. At least that was the way it was before. Now Jon’s face didn’t have a sad smile, his face was just sad. God did he miss that little brat. At least he got to interact with Damian the last three days.

The room fell in silence, thinking about what Jon had just said. Tim was the one to break the silence. “We still have pressing matters to attend to. We have to start working in the protection scheme.”

“That is, if it’s true,” corrected Batman.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t it be true?”

“Well, he can be giving that information in order to paralyze the hero community while he does his coup; alternatively, he may need the speedsters out of the way to do something,” Duke considered.

“If we want to play it safe, we shouldn’t lock the speedsters away in the Watchtower. We should give every speedster a capable bodyguard, specially those who are young,” proposed Tim.

Batman nodded; they were going to do that. However, “You are all grounded.” Jon rolled his eyes. Jon was eighteen and wasn’t part of the bat-family; he wasn’t grounded. Batman glared at him.

… Okay, maybe he was grounded.

**A few hours before**

_He was walking through the compound towards the Lazarus chamber. He had to debrief Ra’s the ‘successful’ mission in Japan. When the doors of the chamber were opened to him, he was horrified. The corpse of his former teammate, Wallace West II, laid in a very advanced device. He was so stunned, that he forgot completely what he came to do. He walked over to device, ignoring the scientists around him, ignoring Ra’s looking at him strapped to the machine. He took the wrist of the Kid Flash and confirmed that he was dead._

_After their problems in the Teen Titans and New Teen Titans, he didn’t expect the death of Kid Flash to affect him that much. He rationalized that it was because what it meant; Ra’s was now more powerful than ever. He was the deadliest man on earth. His heartrate started to pick up, terrified of what was going to come. Would he be able to defeat this speedster Ra’s? And Ra’s hadn’t told him anything about his plans, meaning that he was already suspecting that Damian was up to something. Fuck._

_Damian recomposed himself, stoic as ever. “Grandfather, I see that you’ve made yourself with the power of the speed force.” Ra’s smiled at his grandson, sending shivers through his spine. Damian was already making a plan in his head to kill Ra’s Al Ghul once and for all._

_…_

_The next day his father laid dead in the Gotham Harbor, a sword plunged through his chest. Damian had to swallow his grief and rage (praying that his eyes weren’t glowing), faking his joy at his own father’s death, due to being in front of his grandfather. It shouldn’t have gone like this; he had informed his father as soon as he could using an emergency communicator. His father had tried to use his emergency plan against the Flash, adapting it to Ra’s, but it went so wrong._

_Damian was so fucking terrified because he knew that he couldn’t stop his grandfather. But he had to, and he would have to try anyways._

Damian woke up panting, sweating a lot. He had been getting better at recognizing those visions. He knew it was a vision, but it still terrified him; his heartbeat wouldn’t calm anytime soon. He scanned his surroundings, he wasn’t tied up in Abuse’s base anymore; he was in the top of a rooftop in Gotham, his lieutenants looking at him worried. Damian incorporated himself, visibly trembling.

“Boss?” worried Mind Specter. Damian couldn’t show weakness to his subordinates; not only because they could try to use it to topple him, but because a superior should make his subordinates feel secure. He had to calm down, now. He took deep breaths for a minute until his heartrate was at its usual tempo.

“Report,” he ordered in a neutral voice, not letting any emotion through. Number Four was the one to debrief him on the actual situation, mentioning too how Ra’s had caused a breakout in Arkham to make the escape possible. Damian’s eyes had a faint glow to them. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t mad at his lieutenants because the situation had completely escaped out of their hands. That didn’t mean he would stay idly while the most dangerous psychos are rampaging through Gotham. “We are going to help quelling the crisis.”

His lieutenants looked at each other. They had completely expected this kind of reaction but weren’t sure that it would be wise to take such a course of action. “Boss, are you sure? We could blow our cover and endanger the coup,” objected Mind Specter.

Damian brushed it off, putting his hands behind his back. “It is obvious that I’ve killed villains for the sake of justice. Besides, Ra’s is already suspecting something.” His lieutenants went pale at the statement. “I think he doesn’t know yet the full extent of our plans or had any evidence to confirm his suspicions anyways. Either way, we can kill a bunch of birds with one stone.”

The Engineer raised an eyebrow. “How?” Damian smirked at them.

…

Batman knew this wasn’t the usual Arkham breakout. There were no signs that it had been provoked by Two-Face, the Penguin or Black Mask (who were the villains in Gotham who had the resources to pull off a breakout). It was done in a too stealthy manner, which narrowed the possibilities vastly. There were only two options, but Batman would deal with that later, because right now he was fighting a team up between Mr. Freeze and Killer Croc.

It didn’t go well, he had been pierced in the abdomen and in his right shoulder, having a frostbite in one of his hands. Ever since Alfred’s death he had been more reckless (the same way he reacted to every death in his family); but it had been compounded with Dick’s death and Damian going rogue. Even after 8 months, he hadn’t healed yet. He was still not operating at his full capacity, which explained why he had been beaten up so badly by a B-list and a C-list villain.

The whole bat-family was occupied with other villains, and even if they weren’t, you know Batman, part of the job was not calling for help. Not that he needed it, he was Batman after all. He was about to knockout Killer Croc, because let’s face it, a team up between a cold-blooded lizard and the guy who shoots ice isn’t a really compatible team. They had made it work in the first half of the fight, finding a synergy in their abilities such as Croc’s claws with an ice floor, and Croc’s agility with the debuff in Batman’s one due to the cold.

Well, in the second half, Batman got the upper hand. He had been able to get a number of well-placed hits as well as taking advantage of friendly fire. He only needed to deal the final blow. He was already in the air, when a freeze grenade was thrown; he understood what this meant, Mr. Freeze would take him down with Croc. However, a grapple hook took hold of the grenade, towing it away, allowing Batman to end the fight without getting frozen.

He expected a member of the bat-family to be his savior. It wasn’t. Batman was surprised to see an assassin with a katana, on the rooftops, slowly but surely closing the distance with Mister Freeze. The way he moved, the paraphilia, he recognized his son almost immediately. He was relieved, a bit joyful, except this meant that his son would kill Freeze. He wouldn’t allow that.

Damian took out a gun; again, not his favorite weapon but certainly a remarkably effective one. He dashed out of cover, hitting Mr. Freeze’s glass dome a few times with bullets. The bullets didn’t pierce the glass, but the purpose wasn’t that anyways. It was breaking it to hamper Mr. Freezes vision, and by extension, reaction time. He holstered the gun, using the grappling hook to tow Mr. Freeze’s gun away. He then quickly speeded towards Mr. Freeze, ready to deal the killing blow, when a smoke bomb was thrown between him and the villain.

He immediately retreated, sure of what to expect. It was Batman (Duh). Mr. Freeze had already been knocked out, so they were the only conscious people on the roof. They stayed in silence, glaring at each other. Damian didn’t holster his katana, and Batman had his hands on his utility belt.

“Damian,” said Batman uneasily.

“Batman,” grumbled Damian. The fact that he didn’t say father was not only weird, but it hurt… both of them.

“Why are you here?” said Batman in his interrogation voice. Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I told you. Control your rogues or I’ll do it for you,” replied Damian.

Batman narrowed his eyes. There was something going on here. The circumstances of the breakout where suspicious already. “You know the culprit of the breakout.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

Damian wasn’t really feeling like he wanted to play a cat and mouse conversation. After all, telling Batman was part of his plan. “Yes,” responded Damian.

“Who?”

“Who else?” Damian taunted. “The League.”

Batman eyes widened. Damian admitted, with no qualms, that it was his organization. He didn’t think that Damian had any reason to lie in that way, which meant it was true. But why would he admit it just like that. “Did you take any part in this?”

Damian clenched his teeth. The vein in his temple was now visible. “NO!”

Damian was clearly offended and angry, but Batman (obviously) didn’t trust him. He continued the line of questioning. “Then why are you here?”

Damian laughed bitterly, which unsettled Batman. “Well, you’ll have to ask your sidekicks to know that. In the meantime, just know that Drake is already a better detective than you are.”

Batman didn’t expect that kind of response. Did Damian just openly praise Tim? Even if it was to spite Batman or get Tim into problems with him, it was unexpected. He couldn’t help to wonder what Tim did. He would later interrogate Tim. Right now, he was getting information out of Damian. “Why would the League do this?”

Damian shrugged. “Again, ask your sidekicks.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. Damian was clearly enjoying leaving Batman in the dark, leaving more questions than answers. But Batman already got a lot of information from Damian. There had to be a reason for Damian being so cooperative. “Why are you revealing all of this? What do you want?”

Damian smirked. Finally, what he had been waiting for. “As for the first question, again, ask Drake.” Seriously, what did Tim do? “As for the second question, I’ll get to the point. Ra’s is planning on becoming a speedster himself,” began Damian. Batman wouldn’t be surprised if Ra’s were really planning such a thing. “He needs to kidnap a speedster to rip them from their connection to the speed force.” Batman knew where this was going. “We can’t allow that to happen, under any circumstance. I advise keep them, and restrain them if necessary, in the Watchtower, far from Ra’s reach. Take special care of West Two, considering that he would willingly give his powers to Ra’s. I think the time of the plan is more or less two weeks from now.”

Damian holstered his katana, picking up Mr. Freeze’s gun from the ground. He was taking his leave now. Bruce didn’t want his son back in the League of Assassins. He had to try at least. “Son-”

Damian tensed immediately, shooting back a glare and yelling. “Don’t you dare to call me that!” Batman looked impassive. “You were the one who disowned me, so you don’t get to call me that!”

Bruce eyed the floor, not that Damian would notice anyways because of the cowl. He then looked again at Damian, in the eye. “You don’t belong there.”

Damian turned away from Bruce, walking to the ledge of the rooftop. “As if I had anywhere I belonged,” he replied. He wasn’t yelling, but the tone was obviously angry. He didn’t give Bruce a chance to reply. He dropped off the rooftop, activating his transport technology, teleporting away. His lieutenants were already in the transport room. He immediately went to greet his grandfather and act like he was thankful for the rescue.

Ignoring the end of that conversation, Damian and his lieutenants had achieved their objectives:

1 Fucking Over Drake and the rest of the kidnappers.

2 Alerting Batman about Ra’s plans.

3 Getting Mr. Freeze technology.

4 Killing two serial killers

5 Helping quell the Arkham breakout

He couldn’t help but smile at himself at a well-done job. And also, in retrospect, the kidnapping wasn’t that bad. He got to rest from the League of Assassins and his 21-hour work shifts, he had seen his friends (even if they had kidnapped him… he should see a therapist, he probably had Stockholm Syndrome) in person and talked to them, and most importantly, he had devised an even better plan for the coup (which he would need considering that he was going against none other than Ra’s Al Ghul).

**Extra: Conversations that happened during the kidnapping**

“Come on Darga, you don’t have any problems with me killing, I don’t get why you are siding with them,” asked Damian, clearly annoyed.

“Executing that coup can get you killed,” he replied. He then smirked, putting two fingers in Damian’s head harshly. “Besides, it’s payback for cuffing me after rescuing me.”

“-TT-”

“Kent, drop the act. You were thrilled when you first saw me. I don’t get why you insist sustaining your heat vision during our exchanges.”  
“I’m just reminding you that even if I’m happy to see you, I’m angry at you.”

“I asked you to not kill Zsasz and you go and kill him.”

“You should feel honored that I didn’t kill him in that fight at your request,” Colin rolled his eyes. “And look where that got us: three years later, he got out of Arkham and killed a bunch of people before I put him down for good. He has no family or friends, so no one is going to enact vengeance for him; he couldn’t possibly change, and in a state with an actually competent government he would’ve got death penalty.”

“First, you don’t know if he could or couldn’t change. Second, competent government? Are you serious?”

Damian didn’t have a rebuttal for the first point that wouldn’t take a large and boring argument. The second point was easier though. “People threw street parties when they found that the Joker had died. When it was announced that Zsasz was killed, the families of the victims were openly celebrating his death. For an institution that claims to be the voice of the people, the actions of a ‘criminal’ are more democratic than theirs.”

Colin didn’t know how to respond; it was a good argument.

“I hold no interest for something as trivial as romance or sex, Ducard.”

“So, you are asexual?”

Damian considered the question. “I guess it isn’t an inaccurate label.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't clear, but Damian wasn't really planning on killing Mr.Freeze.
> 
> Damian isn't truly asexual in this fanfic. I've been kinda hinting on why Damian isn't interested in sex as of now (but it has important repercusions aside from his sex life).
> 
> Next: Battle for the speedster.


	4. Interlude: After the encounter at the cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian meets and befriends Mind Specter, before deciding that he has to go back to the League of Assassins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These OCs are a very important part of the story. So after the last chapter, I decided that they needed to be fleshed out more. I originally intended flashbacks mixed with the Battle for the Speedster, but it didn't feel quite right. So, I settled for this.

He was not on the other side of the world, so not that far away from Gotham.

Cali. He thought Gotham was the worst city. He was right… if they were talking about the United States. However, this city was the worst city in Colombia, and it was way worse than Gotham. For starters, the problem of narcotraffic was rampant; Cartels were operating freely on the city. Secondly, meta-trafficking was proliferated, which fueled the armed conflict in the whole country, gang violence and narcotraffic. Third, all human rights activists and clean cops had been massacred, and the police force was corrupted to its core; no one dared to raise a voice. Finally, every ‘hero’ that has attempted to stabilize the city had been publicly executed; none of them lasted more than two weeks.

Now, one of those so-called heroes had made an appearance in the city, and it wasn’t Damian. Common people made bets on how much time it will take for this one to get killed. Damian wasn’t going to allow this kid to get himself killed, so he started researching who it was. He went by ‘Agente Mental’ and was mainly seen in the downtown on the city. It was clear that he wasn’t going for the common thugs but for the heavy hitters.

…

Apparently, the kid (who was barely older than Damian) got TTK; Damian has to admit (not out loud) that the kid knows how to use his powers. Still, the kid is not good enough to be out there fighting crime in the seventh most dangerous city in the world. Damian wants to just drop and tell the kid to go home because he will get himself killed.

“Don’t. No one would hear you out if you did that. Namely, you wouldn’t hear yourself baby bat.”

“-TT-” Damian was annoyed, but his inner Richard had a point. He would have to stalk and wait until the situation got dire. Then, he would have a point. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait much. It turns out, he actually didn’t. The kid didn’t notice someone sneaking on the left flank, allowing him to shoot him (Amateurs). Damian quickly dropped to save the kid; his blade unveiled.

One of the attacker’s bullets grazed his thigs (his League of Assassins uniform wasn’t heavy on body armor). The pain wasn’t that big, but he had an stressful week (beaten by his father, killed by Deathstroke, being revived by Talia, finding out Richard died, arguing with his father, stablishing in a foreign city again, watching over a damn kid like he was a babysitter. He hadn’t even meditated in the whole week.), so just like that, the pit’s rage kicked in.

It wasn’t until all of the thug’s throats were sliced, blood spilled on the floor, that he realized what he had done. It wasn’t intentional. If he had been in control, he would have merely knocked them out. Nevertheless, he wasn’t sorry or regretful for the lives of these criminals. That is, until he turned to see the face of the kid. Even through the sunglasses (who uses sunglasses at night?) and the mask he could make out how terrified he was. (The kid was wearing casual clothes, gloves, and used a 14 kg bowling ball as his weapon.)

Damian slowly crept forward, his hands in the air. The other vigilante was shakily crawling away from him. Damian crouched, retaining eye contact.

“You are injured,” said Damian (note that the conversation is in Spanish), his eyes trailing to his shoulder. “I need to examine it.”

“Stay back!” the vigilante shouted.

Damian frowned. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You slaughtered them.”

“Would **you** have rather died?”

The kid stayed silent for a moment. “You didn’t need to kill them.”

“They didn’t need to kill you either,” countered Damian.

“One of them surrendered,” said Mind Specter without breaking eye contact. Damian’s eyes widened. “You shouldn’t have killed him.” Ok, now Damian did feel regretful (still not sorry). Killing an enemy who has yielded is dishonorable. While Damian was processing what ‘he’ had done, Mind Specter was studying him. He frowned when he came to a realization. He slowly began “You didn’t know… Why didn’t you know? Did you not hear him saying ‘I yield’ or not see his hands clearly in the air or…?”

Damian stayed silent, putting a blank front on his face, staring at the other vigilante. They stayed like that for a minute, until Mind Specter began to shuffle nervously under the intense gaze and the carefully blank face. Damian eyed the shoulder of the other. His hands moved slowly, telegraphing that he was about to inspect the wound.

He gently held the other boy, examining the wound. Then, he began to treat it. Mind Specter held still, even though the procedure was painful. His gaze turned to the sky, feeling uncomfortable looking at the wound treatment or the face of the other boy or the corpses on the street.

“You shouldn’t patrol again. You are going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m not taking orders from an eleven-year-old,” Mind Specter snapped.

Damian death-glared at him. “I’m fourteen.”

Mind Specter snorted. “Yeah, right. Your voice is too high pitched, and you are too short- Owww”

“I apologize” said Damian with a smirk. Mind Specter simply glared at him, opting not to say anything that will piss off the guy who was patching him up.

After a moment of silence, Damian continued “I’m serious, you will get yourself killed.”

“I won’t.”

“Everyone who has tried to make themselves the hero in this city ended up dead. You aren’t particularly skilled or powerful enough to face off the powers in the city.”

“I won’t die”

“You almost got yourself killed today!”

“But I didn’t die!”

“Because I jumped in to save you!”

“I didn’t need saving!”

“Yes, you did!”

Suddenly, a glaring match started. Mind Specter scoffed. “You are a foreigner, you wouldn’t understand.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “What does me not being from here have to do with anything?”

“The misery in this city… you just have to do something about it, even if it kills you.”

The fact was that Damian understood. Damian fought Deathstroke alone and got killed exactly because it was too painful to stay in the sidelines. In hindsight, he was arrogant and rash. But not everyone gets a second (fourth) chance in life. He sighed, standing up. “You won’t do anything about it if you are dead, so I suggest keeping yourself alive.” Damian retreated to the shadows of the night, ignoring the calls the other was making.

…

The bullet wound was hurting like a bitch. The ninja kid didn’t have the decency to give him painkillers, not even for carrying the procedure. He was definitely going to ask for paracetamol for a supposed headache when he gets to school.

He silently climbed to the window of his bedroom, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder. With his telekinesis, he opened the window, sneaking into the room without making any sound. There were two single beds in the bedroom, although only one had been used in the last two months. He closed the curtains and stripped, going to the washing room to leave his t-shirt and jeans with the pile of clothes in the basket. He would have to do something about the hole in his jacket and t-shirt later. He hadn’t considered that he would have to learn how to sew. He sighed.

Then he headed to his bedroom. He didn’t want to litter his bed with his sweat, but he couldn’t shower just yet (it was one hour until he would have to supposedly wake up). He took out his phone and a notebook, turning on his bed light. He opened the pdf of Macroeconomics he had and began taking notes. When his phone alarm alerted him it was 5 a.m. he was barely beginning to do the exercises of this section (it was monetary policy). He shut off the alarm and immediately headed to the shower; he couldn’t wait to clean up and stop feeling so gross. He looked himself over the mirror; it suddenly came to him that today’s battle would leave a scar in his shoulder. He wouldn’t allow his mother to ever see him shirtless again.

After putting on his school uniform, he went to the dining table. The dining table had three seats. Even after two months, the extra seat haunted them. He checked up the news while he waited for his mother to finish showering and make her way over to the kitchen. They greeted each other with a kiss to the cheek and a tight hug; it took a lot of effort for Camilo not to wince. His mother began making their breakfast: scrambled eggs, bread, and coffee on milk. Despite Camilo’s offerings, his mother insisted on always making their breakfasts.

His mood wasn’t good. It took a lot of effort to use his right shoulder in a natural way without manifesting pain. All his mother’s comments were met with very dry and short replies. He knew his mother deserved better than that, but he couldn’t help himself. After the breakfast, his mother went to the bathroom while he washed the dishes. After fifteen minutes, she gave him a farewell kiss in the cheek and went to her work.

Twenty minutes later, he took his bag and left the apartment too. He knocked on the apartment across the hallway. The neighbor greeted him, calling for her daughter to hurry. The nine-year-old girl received him with a smile. They walked together to the school; the walk was quieter than normal as Camilo wasn’t in the mood to talk. They parted at the gate of the school when a friend of the girl approached her. He went straight to his classroom.

He opened his locker, taking out all the supplies for the next three classes. He sat in his desk, taking out his biology book. He had already done all the homework of math of the year and had convinced his English and Biology teacher to give him all of the homework planned for the year (he had done ¾ of them). His Social Studies and Spanish teacher had refused to give him the homework for all the year for whatever reason. Still, he had already read all of the books in the reader’s plan.

The girl that sat beside him asked him for today’s homework. He asked her for the money of the last math assignment he had done for her. He knew that selling homework was a form of corruption, and that corruption was one of the many reasons this country was a hellhole, but he needed the currency to not burden his mother into giving him everything that he needed. The girl had the nerve to say that she would ‘pay him later’ and push for him to give her the homework. He obviously refused. When the teacher called them for attendance, she finally stopped bugging him; good because if it went on for one more minute, he would have yelled at her. When the teacher called him by his surname, he couldn’t help but regret that his father’s last name was the one that he was called by and not by his mother’s last name.

The day went uneventful. As always, instead of paying attention to the class he did homework. His friends were a bit worried about his mood, his best friend taking notice of the feint rigidness in the movements of his shoulder; he tried to get Camilo to talk but the other quickly shut him down. He turned down the offer to hang out today, which earned him confused looks from his friends; he couldn’t wait to crash his bed. After saying goodbye to his little neighbor, he immediately crashed his bed at 2 p.m. He slept until his phone alarm woke him at 8 p.m. He made himself a big dinner and did the laundry, using the spare time to exercise his TTK. His mother got to the house at 10:30 p.m. At 11:15 p.m. Camilo made sure his mom was sleeping before going to patrol.

…  
Damian woke at 10:00 a.m. in his suite. He called room service to serve him his vegetarian breakfast. While he waited, he stretched like Grayson taught him to.

_“You are doing great Little D!” encouraged Grayson, doing the bridge without breaking a sweat._

_“Sh-Shut up Grayson,” replied Damian clenching his teeth._

After breakfast, he took out his laptop to start his research. He had followed Mind Specter to his house, so he knew where he lived. He checked the databases related to the building. The apartment was rented to ‘Angélica Herrera’. She was divorced from ‘Wilson Gómez’ and had two sons: ‘William Gómez’ (deceased) and ‘Camilo Gómez’. It was obvious by this point who this Mind Specter was. He began drafting a profile of the kid.

15-year-old… 9th grade (out of eleven) … outstanding grades but a couple of disciplinary reports involving fights. His brother had been bailed a couple of times out of jail. Suspected gang activity, but never proven; or to be fair, the attorney never followed the investigation. 6 bullet wounds, 2 fatal hitting heart; a fight between two gangs. No reports about meta activity in that fight.

This was… odd. Maybe the Gómez kid was disguising gang activity as vigilante activity. If that were the case, it would be the reasonable path to join the gang of his deceased brother. However, his first hits were against that and the other gang involved in the fight. Maybe the kid was working with another gang. He hacked into the kid’s phone (child’s play) and found no evidence of gang activity or vigilante activity whatsoever (Note: the subject seems to have an interest in economy and policy making and sells homework). Maybe the kid had another phone that Damian was unaware of. Any further advances in the investigation would need to be done in the field.

…

After Gómez decided to doze off, Damian quickly infiltrated the apartment. He registered every corner of the apartment. There was nothing directly incriminatory on the youngest brother. However, evidence of gang activity between 2 and 3 months ago in the gunpowder mixed with dust in one of the unused drawers proved that one of the two (or both) were involved in gang activity. There were also guns below a tile of the floor; again, the dust indicated that it hadn’t been used between 2 and 3 months ago.

Damian wasn’t completely convinced, but he was cautiously optimistic that this kid wasn’t part of the criminal element of the city.

…

Damian spent the rest of his day meditating on the rooftop of the hotel. Dealing with his feelings was long overdue. Also, today was a sunny day and the Lazarus Pit had bleached his skin (which he thoroughly disliked); he needed to spend as much time as he could under the sun if he wanted his skin to go back to normal (and also eating a lot of iron and vitamin B-12 supplements). Memories of the last three weeks (for him it was more like 10 days) came flooding. It took a lot from him not to give into the green that had engulfed his vision.

Then it him at once: Richard Grayson was dead. Sure, he killed the Joker because of it, but he never truly processed the death. He off course considered the possibility of throwing Richard into a Lazarus pit; however, considering that his persona was ‘Dicky Boy’ when he died… well, Damian didn’t want to prove his hypothesis on the effects of pit madness over Richard’s brainwashing.

He had to come into terms with what it meant: no longer would he hear those stupid songs in the middle of a fight, no longer would Grayson get to call him baby bat or Little D, no longer would they get to play video games together or eat ice cream, no longer would Damian get the guidance of Grayson in sorting out his feelings, or seek him the nights he couldn’t sleep, no longer would he get to hug Grayson while pretending he didn’t like it, no longer would they get to team up.

Damian struggled getting out his words, feeling a heavy knot in his throat. “We are-” Damian let a choked sob. “ _were_ the best.”

Damian didn’t stop crying until long after the sun had hidden over the horizon and he was completely enveloped in the veil of the dark.

…

Being rescued two nights in a row by an eleven-year-old-ninja-who-says-he-is-fourteen wasn’t very dignifying. What’s worse, it gave the kid ammunition to support his argument of Mind Specter retiring. At least this time the kid didn’t kill anyone. Which brought to Specter’s attention that the kid fighting style was vastly different from the night before. The night before he was vicious, fast and animalistic, like a force of nature; tonight, it was deliberate, precise and effective, following a methodical approach. Maybe the kid last night was drugged or something? He would give him the benefit of the doubt.

“My adorable tiny hero,” Mind Specter teased when the kid started approaching him, probably to check for wounds.

“-TT-” replied Damian. Mind Specter couldn’t gauge whether the kid’s face was flushed or not due to his mask.

“It is the second time we cross paths. Some might say you are stalking me,” continued Mind Specter, while Damian took a look at Specter’s cut in the arm. Damian hummed. Mind Specter suddenly realized, his face going white. “Oh my god you are stalking me!” Then, he thought about it better. If he meant ill-harm, then he would’ve killed him already or let him get himself killed. His face reddened, he pouted. “You know I don’t need protection, right?”

“Evidence points to the contrary,” countered Damian.

Mind Specter gritted his teeth. He hated it because the kid was right. “Well, I didn’t ask for protection. I don’t appreciate it, so your services are no longer required. You are fired.”

Damian snorted. “Well, the city didn’t ask for your protection either. They certainly don’t appreciate it, given the pools on your death’s date. And on top of it, you’ve been doing a mediocre job at it. You are hereby fired.”

Ok, people were betting on his death date… that was morbid, but not exactly surprising. “You do not represent the city; you cannot fire me!”

Damian considered the argument. “Legally, you don’t represent yourself either. Only your mother can fire me, so deal with it.”

Camilo opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself when he realized that the ninja had said his mother instead of his parents; that coupled with the stalking meant that the kid knew his identity. The kid obviously had good intentions, but he wasn’t comfortable with him knowing who he was, specially since he didn’t know who the kid was. Worst of all, he didn’t know what to do now.

Damian stood up, ready to leave. “W-Wait!” said Camilo, putting a hand on his shoulder. Damian immediately tensed. He almost reacted violently. Almost. But the pit’s rage was getting really hard to control. Camilo seemed oblivious to the fact that he almost got himself killed by a ninja kid. “Y-You know my secret identity...:” added Camilo hesitantly.

Damian swatted the arm away, taking deep breaths in order to get the pit’s rage under control. Once his vision wasn’t green anymore, he finally replied. “First, don’t touch me without a previous warning ever again!” Damian was death-glaring at Camilo, who gulped and nodded. Damian relaxed a bit. “Second, I am not going to reveal your secret identity to anyone. However, do consider me figuring out your identity fairly easily another point in favor of you needing to leave this life.” And just like that, Damian vanished into the night.

…

This time, Camilo made a diversion and checked that he wasn’t being followed (Damian was following him, but he didn’t find him) before he went to his place. Running through the streets, he became self-conscious on how stupid he looked. There had to be a better way of transport. He would have to save up all of the money he made from homework for one year to get a motorcycle so that was a no-no. Maybe he could get a grappling gun… if he knew where to find one. Maybe he could craft one… but he wasn’t sure about his own abilities as an engineer, and he knew for a fact that a grappling gun was an exceedingly difficult piece of equipment to engineer.

He sighed. Maybe the kid was right, maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. He honestly didn’t know what he was doing or where he was going. He looked ridiculous. And his powers weren’t as kick ass as he originally thought. His telekinesis was limited to moving in only one direction at a time and throwing that big bowling ball around wasn’t as good of a strategy as he originally thought. He looked up to the window of his bedroom. He would bet that he even looked dumb climbing; maybe he could use his bowling ball to elevate himself to the window. Nah he would look even dumber.

A bell rung in his head. Maybe he could use his TTK on himself to levitate to his window. He palmed himself in the chest. It took some effort, but he finally took off. It was weird to use his TTK with a different frame of reference than himself, but if he wanted to move, he would need to use the floor as the frame of reference. He then reached the window, struggling to get close enough to open it without his body getting in the way of it. He then got inside, taking more time than needed to release himself into the floor. His heart was beating fast. He wasn’t backing down just now when he realized he could fly. This was going to be fun.

…

Damian that night remembered when he came back from the death, how it felt to fly by yourself. He then remembered that his father had gone to Apokolips and fought Darkseid to revive him. Maybe his father did love him in spite of everything. Or maybe he just did that because of the guilt. Maybe he was only valuable to him as a tool, like he was to his mother.

The only family that had ever shown him uncomplicated unconditional love were Alfred and Richard. And well, they were both gone, never to be seen again. Maybe if he had stayed dead after that fight with Deathstroke he would have got to be with them. Probably not, because they would surely go to heaven, and while he was sure he wasn’t going to be sent to hell again thanks to the year of atonement, he wouldn’t be sent to heaven either. But at least in purgatory you get to be in peace with yourself, which he clearly wasn’t right now. It would be so much less painful for Damian to kill himself right now. It would be so easy. But Damian doesn’t do easy.

Still, Damian was weak. He didn’t want to admit he was weak, but the evidence was overwhelming: he had died three times, and strong people didn’t die if not for natural reasons. Saying that his fight against Deathstroke was a suicide attempt was misguided. He fought him because he was arrogant and lonely, and he thought he could take him; god had he been so wrong.

But maybe he was strong enough to protect this city, and he would start with that stupid idealistic kid. The kid wouldn’t be convinced to leave the life now that he has met the thrill of flying (he should have broken Gómez legs before he learned that he could use his TTK on himself), so if the kid was going to live the life regardless, then Damian was going to help him.

…

Camilo didn’t go to patrol this night; he went to the abandoned factory he used to train his powers. He had set up very rudimentary tests of his powers all over the place. If he exerted himself, he could apply a force a little over 10026N. He weighted like 50 kg, meaning he could theoretically accelerate himself 200 m/s^2 (20.5G). Off course he wouldn’t try to accelerate himself to such a degree because it would surely kill him but thinking he could break the speed of sound in just 1.6 seconds made him smugly smile.

So, he began practicing his flight. He realized that it felt like something or someone was tugging him by the chest, and it felt extremely uncomfortable. First, he centered on making his body move as a unit; it was exceedingly difficult to do so, but he managed. Once he did that, he realized that he felt weightless in the air, and he didn’t feel the acceleration of his body at all (except for the wind on his skin when moving). Maybe he could accelerate himself 200 m/s^2 without killing himself.

So, he did some more practicing. Each time he manuevered in more complex and cramped spaces, having the care not to go fast enough so that a hit in the head would hurt that much. He still hit on the head with the edge of a shelf, losing the concentration he had, falling to the floor. His head throbbed, making it somewhat difficult to focus. When he managed to do so, he heard snickering closing in. He sighed.

“Stalker,” greeted Camilo, not bothering to look at the ninja kid approaching.

“Edge-face” greeted the other back, openly smirking at Camilo.

“Asshole.”

“Egg-head.”

“Brat.”

“D1 excuse of a superhero.”

“That’s… an oddly Colombian reference. How much time have you been in this country?”

“Enough to differentiate between plebian supermarkets and less-plebian supermarkets.”

“Hey, I buy food there.”

Damian grinned. “My point has been proven.”

_“Mocoso gomelo”_ grumbled the other.

Damian cocked his head. “What does ‘gomelo’ mean?”

“Normally, it would have a neutral connotation. However, in this context it means that you are a pretentious rich snob.”

“I’m not a snob,” the kid pouted. Camilo couldn’t help but snort. He was kind of adorable, despite being a brat. “And what kind of word is ‘gomelo’?”

“Colombian slur.”

“Then Colombian slur is dumb.”

Camilo felt a pang of annoyance, but he shoved it down. He wasn’t going to lose his calm over a dumb (and probably misguided) comment. “Spanish isn’t your first language now is it?” The kid remained silent; Camilo took it as a ‘yes’. “You may’ve noticed that the Spanish that they thought you in school is very different from the Spanish spoken here,” Damian considered the question for a moment before he nodded once. “Have you ever been to another Spanish speaking country?”

“Mexico and Spain.”

“Que gomelo,” commented Camilo with a smirk and some jealousy. Going out of the country was costly, so he wasn’t able to do so. Not that going abroad was killing him anyways.

“I’m not a snob,” said Damian, glaring at Camilo.

Camilo raised his hands. “I told you that the word normally has neutral connotations.” Damian ‘humphf’ed, biting back a snarky response. He became less defensive, nonetheless. “Anyways, I could bet that the Spanish spoken there was quite different from the Spanish they thought you. Spanish is one language, but I would hardly call it unified.”

“That is a characteristic of every wide-spoken language,” pointed out Damian.

Camilo shrugged. “True. But I don’t think in any other language you have a word that means jacket in one place and blowjob in another.”

Damian blinked. He then scrunched his nose in disgust. Camilo was openly grinning at him, and Damian wasn’t pressing his lips to not smile back.

…

They bantered for an hour, becoming increasingly comfortable with each other.

“So, why are you stalking me? Do you have a crush or something?”

“Don’t be preposterous. I merely followed you in an attempt to make you leave vigilantism at once, so that you wouldn’t interfere with my plans later.”

Camilo’s heartbeat suddenly rose. There was good chance that he was going to be killed right then and there. He swallowed. “And what were those plans?”

“Eradicating the criminal element of the city.”

Now Camilo was confused. “And… how would I get in the way?”

“By being a liability.”

Camilo clenched his teeth. “I’m not a liability.”

“Evidence points to the contrary,” replied Damian. Camilo clenched his fists. Damian remained silent. Good, Camilo wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from punching the other. After 2 minutes of silence, Damian continued “You aren’t going to stop, are you?” Camilo shook his head. “You are as stubborn as Br-” Damian caught himself before completing the word. They stayed silent for another minute. “I have a proposal”

Damian didn’t speak until Camilo looked him in the eye. “I want to offer you a partnership in fighting crime. Be warned that I’m not a life evangelist. I’ll kill if I deem it convenient.”

Camilo pondered his options, taking minutes to formulate a reply, without ever taking his eyes off Damian. “I’m not a life evangelist either, but we won’t be killing every goon that crosses our heirs, especially if they have already surrendered. We don’t want families and organizations plotting vengeance against ourselves.” Damian nodded; it was only logical. “Good. But before we seal this partnership, we need to know the names of both parts.” Camilo stretched his hand towards Damian. “I’m Camilo Herrera, but you already knew that.”

Damian frowned. The kid’s name was Camilo Gómez, not Herrera… Something clicked in Damian’s head. He could definitely relate. Still, Damian was hesitant to give his identity to the stranger in front of him. But not doing so will only generate distrust that could generate more problems down the line. Well, he would be trusting his back to this stranger after all, so why not trusting his identity? Besides, if his identity became public knowledge it would only hurt his father. He met the other’s hand, saying: “Damian… Just Damian.”

…

After two weeks of fighting crime together, the crime rate didn’t go down at all. It was like, for every thug they managed to incapacitate, there was another in line waiting to replace them. To put the cherry on top, Damian made a report proving that their interventions have dragged more people into crime (if your father brings food to your home through crime, and your father all of a sudden is incapable of providing food, then you resort to crime not to starve. Also, charges are never pressed, effectively increasing the number of people resorting to crime in the long run). Camilo groaned loudly. They were sitting on Damian’s hotel room, having tea (which Camilo wasn’t a big fan of. Not very British of him, he knows.)

“So, we have inavertedly made things worse. Great!” Camilo shouted, covering his face with his hands. Then he started whispering “3 months of my life gone to waste. I promised in my brother’s grave that I wouldn’t allow crime to pay so that nobody would have to suffer the same fate as him.” He made a wet chuckle. “I shouldn’t have become a vigilante. I should’ve waited like every damn kid for a degree to begin changing this country. I should’ve listened to you…”

A pang of guilt hit Damian. He took Camilo’s wrists away from his face so that they could look at each other in the eye. Camilo was openly crying now. “Don’t be overly dramatic. It wasn’t completely in vain Herrera; we have provided justice-”

“‘Justice’ doesn’t matter if we are worse off because of it!” yelled Camilo, swatting Damian’s hands away.

Having fought for the last 5 years of his life for justice, Damian didn’t take kindly the statement. “You imbecilic simpleton! Justice is the highest value one could aspire to!” Damian then stomped his way to the balcony, presumably to cool down himself.

Camilo took a deep breath. He was losing his cool very rapidly, and he would say something he would later regret if he didn’t take the time to calm down. He had to remember that whether justice was or wasn’t a value that should be fought for by itself wasn’t the argument. After he managed to calm down, and tears stopped rolling off his cheeks he finally spoke. “Either way, the justice system is corrupt to its core, and killing or maiming thugs for muggings isn’t something I signed up for. I don’t know what you’ll do, but I resign.”

Damian didn’t react. He just continued staring over the horizon, contemplating something. Camilo waited a few minutes before taking a place besides him. “So… what are you thinking?”

Damian sighed, turning to look at Camilo, his face carefully blank. “I could kickstart a change that a vigilante could only dream of. I’m… the heir of an international assassin’s organization. My uniform shows that I’m one of them.”

Camilo wasn’t that surprised. The kid was a spoiled rich brat, and he was a ninja (or an assassin). “So, you are basically a prince.”

Damian scoffed. “I guess the term wouldn’t be inaccurate. My family does control a kingdom in the Middle East.”

“You are literally a prince,” Camilo deadpanned. He then grinned widely at Damian. “Dude, that’s so awesome. So, what’s the name of your country?”

“Khadym.”

“Khadym… Khadym… I think I’ve never- Wait, isn’t that country so closed off that only North Relasia beats it at it?” Damian nodded. “Isn’t it heavily suspected to be a heavy player in the black market, especially regarding weapons trading?”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Most people wouldn’t know those facts of countries on the other side of the world.”

Camilo shrugged. “Well, I’m not most people if you haven’t realized.”

Damian snorted. “That’s for certain. You are the only one that manages to look competent fighting while singing ‘Barbie Girl’ to annoy me.”

Camilo chuckled. “Well, that’s me.” They returned to look over the horizon. He noticed that Damian was playing with a knife in his hand. He was anxious, probably for going back to that place. Damian didn’t go by any last name, so it was safe to assume that his family either abandoned him or he left them. Whatever it was, he was trying to put his past behind him. “You don’t have to go back there.” Damian turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, assassins are basically killers for hire, aren’t they? What good could they possibly do?”

“I was an assassin,” said Damian, sending daggers with his look.

Camilo mentally facepalmed. “Sorry, you are a good person. I wasn’t referring to you.”

“-TT-”

But whether assassins were or weren’t good people, or whether they were or weren’t capable of change was irrelevant to the point Camilo was trying to get across. “I’ll be blunt. There is a reason you don’t go by any last name Damian; whether that’s because your family abandoned you or you left them isn’t important. Either way, it was bad enough for you to reject them. Besides, they made you a child soldier. You don’t have to go back to them.”

Damian scowled at Camilo. “I need no codling Herrera, I’m no child. You are right that I rejected them, but circumstances are proving that going back may be for the best. If I manage to reform the League of Assassins into a force of good, I believe I could stabilize the Middle East and even Latin America.”

That was very enticing proposal. And well, who was Camilo to say anything to Damian about not putting himself in harm’s way. If it wasn’t for Damian, Camilo would’ve probably died like a hundred times. Their partnership had amounted to Camilo following orders from the kid, while the kid handled the strategy and tactics. It wasn’t that Camilo was a bad strategist (he was rather good in chess and came up with creative solutions to many problems). It was just that he didn’t have the experience to create effective strategies in the field. Damian wouldn’t say it out loud, but he appreciated that Camilo was well aware of the fact and limited himself to follow orders.

Anyways, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to actually follow Damian to this ‘League of Assassins’. He wasn’t like the other kids; he couldn’t simply wait to change things. And the opportunity was presenting in front of him. “Could you tell me more of this League of Assassins?”

“They are a very old organization behind the downfall and rise of many civilizations. In recent history, they were involved in the Napoleonic wars and the Opium wars, they provoked WWI, they assassinated J.F. Kennedy, they helped in the downfall of the Soviet Union and Hussein’s Iraq. I think they were even behind the events of the ‘Bogotazo’ in regard to your country’s history.”

‘So, it was them. Sons of a bitch.’

“Currently, they want to eliminate what they believe is the surplus of human population around the world.”

“Don’t tell me that they seriously believe that Malthusian bullshit,” stressed Camilo. Damian gave him a confused look. “The whole ‘surplus of human population will be our downfall’ has been disproved with the Industrial Revolution. Even supposing that your family has an environmental concern, it is our economic model that is killing our planet, **not** the amount of people. Those ideas are dated and are frankly nonsense.”

Damian waved his hand dismissively. “My grandfather is a crazy two-thousand-year-old man. I would be rather surprised if he didn’t believe in old yet disproven theories like the senile man he is.”

“Are you joking?” gaped Camilo. Damian blankly stared at him. “You aren’t joking… Wait. Is that the reason why you look like you are eleven even though you are supposedly fourteen?” Damian scoffed, punching Camilo in the shoulder. “Owww.” Damian turned away from Camilo crossing his arms. “Damian, seriously?” Damian remained in his position. “I’m sorry.” Damian didn’t turn or make any sign of acknowledgement.

Camilo had no idea of what to do, so he settled for what always worked when his friends got very offended. “Look, I’m gonna hug you.” Camilo wasn’t asking for permission; he was simply giving a heads up. Surprisingly, Damian didn’t attempt to fight him and leaned into the touch after tensing for a moment. Camilo put his head over Damian’s, rubbing the kid’s arms.

Damian hadn’t been hugged in an awfully long time. Last time he was hugged, it was Jonathan before the incident in the future, which was a few months prior. He would never admit it, but he was kind of touch starved. Did Grayson make him weak. While leaning into the hug, he began “The power that allowed my grandfather to stay alive during two-thousand years is the Lazarus pits. As its name suggests, it can heal all type of wounds, including death. Nevertheless, it has side effects; namely, pit’s rage and pit’s madness.”

Camilo hummed, urging him to go on. “The League of Assassins has a monopoly over these pits. Apart from that, they have very advanced cloning technology. Moreover, they aren’t simply a bunch of for hire-killers. They are an intelligence hub. If they get interested in you, they can probably find a way to blackmail or extort you into doing what they want.”

“If I manage to takeover the League of Assassins, I could stop all the wars and conflicts in the Middle East. I could blackmail a number of multinationals into investing on green energy. I could disarticulate cartels and other international crime organizations. I could profoundly change the world for the better.”

“Big actions with dubious morality to change the world for the better… I like it,” confessed Camilo. “Can I go with you?”

Damian squirmed away from the hug, turned, and looked Camilo in the eyes. He was met with determination. “Let me get this straight: you not only agree in me enacting this plan, but you want to go with me to that hellhole.”

“Yes, pretty much. I’m a pragmatist. I understand that some means justify some methods. And I don’t want to simply stand by the sidelines. If I have the opportunity in my hands, I have to take it. Besides, Cali is already a hellhole.”

“But the League is harsh in its ways. It is not a place for children. For training, they do-” explained Damian while lifting his t-shirt, revealing the scars on his belly. Camilo gasped “this to correct your mistakes. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”

Camilo didn’t like the prospect of physical punishment on that level. But he already put his body on the line when engaging in vigilante activity, so it wasn’t a deal breaker. “I still want to go.”

“I will do a hostile takeover of the League of Assassins. You could get killed!” said Damian, dropping his T-shirt back.

“Like I couldn’t be a vigilante.” Damian looked away, clenching his fists. “Look Damian, I know you don’t want me there, but I want to be there. I know the risks, and I know the payoff. If you are really going to do a hostile takeover, you’ll need people who you can trust, and you can trust me. And you’ll need to convince a lot of people. God help us if you try to do that alone.”

Damian scoffed. Damian did need allies, and he wasn’t the best with social skills. He would be condemning Herrera to join the League of Assassins, but it was a necessary evil in the long run. “Fine,” he relented after a few minutes of pondering, feeling like he was the worse shit in the world.

…

If he were going to do this whole coup thing, he would have to get S or A tier partners who he could trust. He was researching on the internet for possible candidates, when a girl that went by Engineer caught his attention. An ‘antihero’ based in Austin. Upon some research, he found out that the teen was called Alexandra Conagher, and there was no information of hers prior to 5 months ago, meaning she either changed identities, was an alien, or she came from another dimension.

So, he teamed up with her during a supervillain attack in Austin, both to assess her abilities and take a DNA sample. The DNA test discarded the possibility that she was an alien. His assessment indicated that she had A tier fighting abilities, her technology was unheard of and effective, but she was way too carefree. Damian found himself torn in half: on one hand they had good chemistry and she was good, on the other he couldn’t allow impulsiveness and he didn’t really picture her following instructions.

…

“You come from another dimension,” stated Damian. The tone implied it was said as a fact. It was really more of a question because it was a fucking wild guess.

Conagher immediately became pale, confirming Damian’s suspicions. “How did you know?”

“Because I’m the Shadow’s head.” And the phrasing felt weird, specially when before he would’ve said in Batman’s voice ‘Because I’m Batman’ and in a more neutral voice ‘’s son.’

“The Shadow’s head?” puzzled Alexandra, tilting her head.

“I have a proposal Conagher,” started Damian. He explained her what he was planning to do, how she would fit in those plans and how he would help her to make her way back to her own dimension if they succeeded.

After listening to the whole ordeal, she resumed “Okay, so basically I can kick ninja’s ass while making my way back to my own dimension.”

“Assassins, but yes. You’ll have to follow my orders.”

She didn’t hesitate that much. “Given that my other option is the Justice League, and that they’ll probably send me to jail for killing instead of sending me back to my world… I’m in.”

Damian grinned slightly. “Good.”

…

All of the people in the room had been either knocked out by Damian or sedated in the floor by superficial cuts of the four-arms meta; 80% of them were points for the ladder. Damian was impressed and humbled.

“That was significantly faster than expected. So, it seems, sedatives are an extremely effective weapon,” commented Damian in German, making his way to the door.

Number Four pressed his lips to retain his grin. “Professionals have to be efficient. There’s no use in punching someone until knocking them out if you can defeat them with a mere cut.”

“-TT- Are you implying I am not professional?” asked Damian, conveying the annoyance but hiding the amusement in his words. His mind helpfully sassed ‘You have been a corpse enough times not to call yourself a professional’

“No, your technique and your work ethics are clearly professional,” quickly retracted Number Four. Damian smiled lightly; Augustine Aldrich has proven himself to be a suitable partner in Damian’s schemes.

…

“Grandfather, I’ve seen that the Detective’s way is misguided and naive. I wish to come back and lead the League by your side. Only the Demon’s way is the right way,” requested Damian, on his knees, bowing to Ra’s Al Ghul.

Ra’s smirked. “And why would I accept you in my ranks back after your betrayal?” taunted Ra’s. It was evident that Ra’s wanted Damian humiliated; he wanted him to beg, and still be denied.

But Damian wouldn’t lower himself. If he wanted to be successful in his coup, he had to join the League back with his dignity intact. He had two aces up his sleeves. “To prove my loyalty, I would like to disclose the location of an unused and undiscovered Lazarus pit.” He had come by it in the year of atonement. He told Ra’s the coordinates of the pit. Giving Ra’s the pit was the best way to change his favor: on one hand it would be highly effective as Ra’s was obsessed with these pits, on the other it left Ra’s power virtually unchanged (Not that the old hag would know anyways).

Ra’s now had a blank look, petting his goatee, deliberating whether or not to let Damian back. “That won’t be enough grandson. The years with the detective have hindered your fighting abilities, instead of sharpening them. You are not strong enough to come back here.”

What Ra’s said was true… kind of. He was a worse fighter than when he had first joined the bat family because he still subconsciously held back. However, he was sure that if he was to not hold back, he would be one of the best fighters in the League. Well, whatever, he had another ace up his sleeve. “I can prove myself grandfather. I have a new team of four members. I would like to request a trial by combat against the Demon’s Guard.”

Ra’s eyed attentively at Damian. “Very well Damian. You shall prove yourself.”

…

The four of them had trained in the field a whole week for this moment, and did they deliver. Not only did they win the 4 v 7 fight, but they absolutely moped the floor with the Demon’s guard. Damian put one foot above one of the fallen assassin’s head, raising his sword triumphantly, completely engaging with the theatrics of the moment. “I present to you the new Demon’s fist!”

“I thought a fist was supposed to have five fingers.” Engineer whispered to Number Four.

“Which makes us a lot more competent,” Number Four whispered back.

“We will later find the fifth finger. For now, play to the crowd,” whispered Mind Specter, bowing to the crowd. The others followed suit.

“You have proven yourself a capable field leader grandson, despite the mediocrity of some of your subordinates,” praised Ra’s, while eyeing the group with disdain.

“I think he is referring to you,” teased Engineer, pointing to Mind Specter. Number Four nodded. Mind Specter elbowed them in the ribs.

“You shall come back as part of the Demon, along with your team. We will have to give them proper training.” Mind Specter gulped. He knew what that meant.

Damian noticed the uneasiness of his new team. He felt a bit guilty, but not that much. After all, unlike other times, he had told them exactly what they were subjecting themselves to when agreeing to be part of this coup. The easy part was done; now, the hard part begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are asking why Colombia... well, I had to include my country somewhere in the story :)
> 
> You may have noticed that Light Dragon hasn't yet been recruited by that point in the story. We will later have time to delve into her backstory.
> 
> As for the other Lieutenants, I'll clarify some things:
> 
> \- Mind Specter trains (a lot) to become the badass he is by the time the Civil War starts. Some of the data I gave in this chapter about his powers is also wrong by the time the Civil War starts. He is way more powerful than he thinks he is.
> 
> \- Engineer's name, Alexandra Conagher, is a reference to the game TF2. You now know where she comes from, and probably have a guess of who she is (she is still an OC). Her origin will become relevant later in the story, regarding a certain metal with very interesting properties.
> 
> \- Number Four might have been the dullest character I came up with last chapter. This chapter makes him better; still, he isn't quite there.


End file.
